Midnight Fear (24 page)

R
eid opened his eyes in the darkness. The faint sound had awakened him, and he strained his ears, listening for it again. The farmhouse was old and no doubt had its share of mysterious creaks and groans, but this one was recognizable to him.

The squeak of hardwood floorboards had come from downstairs.

His gaze moved to the security console on the bedroom wall. Its panel was dark. Dead. Apprehension traveled over his skin. Caitlyn stirred as he got out of bed.

“Stay here,” he whispered. She sat up, her eyes widening in the shadows as she, too, heard the noise on the floor below. Reid slid into his jeans and retrieved his Glock. As he checked the gun, his voice remained low. “Is there any chance it could be Manny?”

She shook her head. She’d climbed out of bed and was tying the sash of her robe around her waist. “He’d never come back in the middle of the night. Not without calling first.”

Nor would Manny knock out the security system. Reid picked up the phone’s receiver on the nightstand. No connection. His heart beat harder. “Where’s your cell?”

Her face paled. “It’s charging in the kitchen.”

He’d left his phone downstairs, as well. She followed Reid to the door, but he stopped her from going farther. “Do you have a gun nearby?”

“In my dresser bureau. I’ve been keeping one there for a while now.”

“Good. Close the door behind me and lock it.”

“I’m going, too—”

“No, Caitlyn.” Their eyes held, until he sensed her agreement. She touched his arm with chilled fingers, then reluctantly closed the door. He waited to hear its lock turning before moving cautiously down the unlit hallway with his gun in front of him. Reaching the landing, Reid paused, listening for another sound. But it was quiet now except for the steady, baritone tick of the grandfather clock in the entry hall.

Taking a tense breath, he began traveling slowly down the staircase with his back against the beadboard wall. He scanned the living room but saw nothing in the dark except furniture and the glow of dying embers in the hearth. The next place to check was the dining room and beyond that, the kitchen and mudroom.

Leaving the staircase and turning the corner, Reid’s gaze swept the large dining area. His stomach flip-flopped. One of the French doors leading onto the wraparound porch stood partially open, and a breeze from
outside caused its bottom to rasp against the aged pinewood floor. Going over, he checked the door and saw that its lock had been broken. But the room itself appeared empty. With watchful steps, he retreated and began traveling down the long corridor toward the kitchen.

He made a quick check of the powder room and came back into the hallway. Reid heard the gun’s roar, felt the spray of plaster inches from his head. He spun, aiming and firing at the shadowed figure who had appeared from somewhere behind him. He wore a ski mask.

The man dove into the dining room. His adrenaline spiking, Reid pressed himself against the wall with his gun poised, waiting. Had he hit him? From the floor above, he could hear Caitlyn frantically calling his name.

“I’m with the FBI!” Reid yelled into the darkness. “Put your weapon down and come out now!”

There was no response. Chances were if the intruder wasn’t down, he’d run back outside through the open door. Steeling himself, Reid inched forward. He took a breath and cut sharply into the shadowed room the intruder had entered, prepared to shoot again.

The French door moved with another nighttime gust. Wind chimes clattered wildly on the porch.

A barely audible creak sent electricity through him. He turned, at that same moment seeing the flash of a gun muzzle. The explosion sounded like cannon fire, the bullet’s force knocking Reid to the floor. His right arm felt heavy, numb. The figure stepped from the
closet behind the butler’s pantry, the black mask concealing his face except for his mouth and eyes.

Reid tried to suck in air, but his lungs refused to respond. He was bleeding from the wound in his upper biceps. Where was his gun? He searched the dark floor. Seeing it a few feet away, he tried to reach for it but his fingers wouldn’t cooperate.

The man stared down at him, gun pointed. Reid tried to push himself up against the wall, his heart hammering as he awaited the trigger’s squeeze. But the next gunfire came from outside the room. The man flinched as the windowed doors of the butler’s pantry shattered behind him, raining down glass. He took off through the open door.

“Reid!” Caitlyn ran into the room, dropping to her knees beside him. She held a small derringer. “Oh, God!”

“I’m…okay.” He squeezed his eyes closed, covering the hole in his arm with his opposite hand. The numbness was rapidly giving way to a screaming pain and warm blood leaked from between his fingers. The acrid odor of gunpowder laced the air.

“You’ve been shot—”

“Caitlyn, listen to me.” He clenched his teeth, trying to keep focus. “Go…see where he went.”

She rose and looked out the open door as a car engine started in the distance. “He parked in the woods—I can see his taillights. He’s…leaving.”

“Can you see the vehicle?”

“There’re too many trees.”

Reid’s gut had been right—David Hunter might be dead, but the threat still existed. Treadwell’s image loomed in his head.

Caitlyn went swiftly into the kitchen, returning with her cell phone and a stack of dish towels. Her face chalky, she made the call to 911, then helped him sit up more fully against the wall. As she pressed the towels over the wound, he groaned in response to the white-hot wave of pain.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Hey,” he murmured, trying to calm her. But despite his best effort, he heard the weakness in his own voice. “I think it went through my arm. It hurts like hell but it’s going to be all right.”

The wet, crimson stain on the towels was growing, however. His body shivered, and Reid hoped he wouldn’t faint from blood loss or go into shock. He didn’t want to scare Caitlyn like that. Her hands trembled as she held the dish towels in place.

“The man who attacked me in the parking garage. He wore a ski mask, too.”

He nodded, swallowing. “I know.”

“This means you were right about David Hunter.”

His thoughts were growing fuzzier. His upper arm felt as though it were on fire, burning where the bullet had traveled through him. Caitlyn smoothed his damp hair back.

“Your forehead’s cut.” The laceration stung as she used another towel to wipe blood from his hairline. She
shook her head. “It’s probably from the broken glass. I—I tried to hit him.”

“You did great,” Reid whispered. He worked to breathe through the pain. His bare shoulder and chest were sticky with blood, the coppery smell of it making his stomach clench. “Just keep talking to me, okay?”

“You’re bleeding a lot. Stay with me—the ambulance and police are on their way.”

The fear on her face kept his eyelids from closing. He fought the growing drowsiness that would bring with it release from the agony shredding his limb.

“Rob helped install the new security system,” Caitlyn said in recollection. “After the break-in a few weeks back. He recommended the system and came out with the technician to install it. He…wanted to help me out.”

The wail of sirens sounded in the distance, moving closer.

“Just a few more minutes, Reid. Hold on,
please
…” Her voice sounded as if it were a half mile away. He struggled to stay alert, but the darkness had begun to tug harder at him.

It slowly won.

“I
t was a clean shot. Through and through,” Agent Tierney said to Caitlyn as he reentered the surgical waiting room. He’d used his DOJ shield to solicit information on Reid’s condition. “The bullet missed bone but nicked the brachial artery. He’s damn lucky he didn’t bleed out.”

She nodded, relief threading through her. The foam cup of coffee she held had long since turned cold. “Thank you for finding out.”

Tierney’s large frame filled the chair beside her. She had contacted him as soon as the ambulance she’d ridden in with Reid arrived at the regional hospital in Leesburg.

“I just spoke to SAC Johnston by phone,” he said. “What about Reid’s family? Have they been notified?”

She rubbed her forehead tiredly. “He woke up in the ambulance and asked me not to call them unless it was bad. I haven’t been sure what to do.”

“They’ve been through a lot with his tumor scare.
I can understand him not wanting to worry them. Still, I think they need to know. You want me to call?”

Caitlyn wore jeans and a thin, merino wool sweater, the first things she could find in her closet once Reid had left her locked inside her bedroom. The sweater was now blotched with rusty stains.
Reid’s blood.
She shivered a little in the hospital’s artificial coolness. The place smelled like antiseptic and sickness.

“No. I’ll do it,” she said. He had been injured at her home, protecting her. She owed Megan and Ben that much.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

Caitlyn had already recounted the event to the Middleburg police officer who’d arrived at the E.R. behind the ambulance, but she prepared to run through it again. She sat the coffee cup next to a stack of ancient magazines and tucked a few pale strands of hair behind her ear. “We heard someone downstairs—”

“Where were you and Agent Novak?”

“We were in my bedroom.” Her face grew warm with the admission. “It was a little before midnight. The security system and phones were knocked out, too. Reid went to investigate. I heard shots and I got scared, so I came down with my gun. Reid was on the floor in the dining room. The man was standing over him. He had on a ski mask.”

She closed her eyes at the unwanted recollection. “I fired.”

“Did you hit him?”

“I don’t think so. He ran out the door.”

“What about the vehicle?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“I talked to Reid by phone around six-thirty last night. He said he was going to his brother-in-law’s high school football game.” He gave Caitlyn an evaluating gaze. “I guess he had a change of plans.”

She was certain her blush had deepened. If Agent Tierney hadn’t known about Reid and her before, he did now.

He’d been shot. Caitlyn still couldn’t believe what had happened. Only a few hours earlier, she’d thought their most imminent threat was the new tumor discovered inside Reid’s head. And now he was lying in a hospital with a gunshot wound. It all seemed like some sort of bad dream. She recalled him telling her that Agent Tierney didn’t know about his diagnosis yet. Regardless, it wasn’t her place to tell him.

“Reid didn’t believe David Hunter was the copycat,” she said quietly.

“I’m aware of that.” Tierney appeared weary himself, the room’s harsh fluorescent lighting emphasizing the dark circles under his eyes. “And based on what went down at your home tonight, it looks like he might be right. Do you think the intruder could’ve been Treadwell?”

Caitlyn ran her hands over the thighs of her jeans in contemplation. “I don’t know. He was the right size, but I can’t be certain.”

He grunted and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “At this point, the only thing I feel sure about is that the inves
tigation isn’t over. The police are conducting a sweep of the area around your property. They have surveillance on Treadwell’s home but he hasn’t come back there.”

Their conversation briefly halted as an orderly in green scrubs strode past the waiting room, pushing an EKG cart. One of its wheels needed oiling and it squeaked noisily down the hallway. Overhead, the intercom system paged a physician to the E.R.

“Reid and I have been partnered for almost nine years,” he stated once the sound had faded. He appeared pensive instead of his usual gruff self. “That’s a hell of a lot longer than either of my marriages. We make a good team, Ms. Cahill.”

“He’s told me that, too.” She added gently, “And you really should start calling me Caitlyn.”

He stretched out his legs. “Maybe. But you should keep calling me Agent Tierney. Even my mother does. Everyone but Reid, actually.”

Caitlyn smiled faintly at his joke, then dug into her bag, searching for her cell phone. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to step into the hall and call Reid’s sister.”

“It’ll take them an hour or more to get here. They’re in Silver Spring, and they’ll probably have to find someone to stay with the girls. Why don’t I give you a ride home?”

She shook her head. “I’m staying here.”

“He’s in recovery—the nurse said it would be a while before he’s moved to a room.” He looked pointedly at Caitlyn’s bloodstained sweater. “And I’m thinking when
his family arrives, you might not want to be wearing
that
.”

Her lips parted in realization. He was right—she couldn’t face Ben or Megan looking like this. It would only frighten them further.

“I’m going to your house anyway. Now that I know Reid’s out of the woods, I need to take control of the crime scene from the local boys.” Agent Tierney stifled a yawn with his fist as he stood. “You can make the call from the car. After you’ve changed, I’ll have a cop escort you back. With all the hell breaking loose around here, you don’t need to be out alone.”

“All right.”

“I’m going by the men’s room. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Gathering her things, Caitlyn stopped at the nurses’ station, leaving her cell number in case Reid’s condition changed before she returned.

They stopped at a convenience store outside Leesburg for gas. As Agent Tierney pumped and went inside to pay, Caitlyn remained in the car, her mind still on her brief conversation with Reid’s sister. They had spoken for less than a minute, with Caitlyn quickly explaining what had happened, where Reid was and that he was going to be all right. Megan had promised to be there as soon as she could and then disconnected the phone. She hadn’t seemed angry or accusatory, just scared. Not that Caitlyn could blame her.

Without the heater running, the sedan’s interior had
turned cool. Placing her cell phone on the car seat, she rubbed her hands over her upper arms as she gazed at Tierney through the store’s window. He stood in line behind a woman with a fussy child on her hip, waiting for his turn at the register. Caitlyn willed the woman to hurry and complete her purchase, wanting to get home to change so she could return to the hospital. She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally pushed through the plate-glass doors, stuffing what appeared to be a pack of cigarettes into the pocket of his suit coat.

“Did you see that?” he asked, scowling as he slid into the driver’s side. He closed the door and shrugged into his seat belt. “Why would anyone have a kid out at this hour?”

Caitlyn shook her head in agreement.

They pulled back onto the highway and headed toward Middleburg. Conversation waned between them, with Tierney seeming to concentrate on his driving. Her hands in her lap, Caitlyn watched the occasional approach of headlights on cars headed in the opposite direction. A few minutes later, an intersection light ahead of them turned yellow. Tierney began to slow the vehicle, which until then had been traveling at a rather accelerated speed.

“Freaking lights,” he muttered, braking harder as it switched to red. As the car came to a stop, inertia caused Caitlyn’s phone to slip from the leather seat onto the floorboard.

“My cell.” Undoing her seat belt, she reached down, feeling around for it in the darkness. Her fingers closed
around a thin rectangular object. Caitlyn sat up. She held a digital tape recorder, although its casing was cracked and a chunk of plastic was missing from one side.

“There’s a lot of junk sliding around down there. I’m always losing things—it’s like the Bermuda Triangle,” he commented. “Mind putting that in the glove box for me?”

Caitlyn did as requested and then finally located her phone, which she placed inside her purse this time. She refastened her seat belt just as the car rolled forward again. Tierney clicked on the radio and searched for a station, finally drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time to an old, eighties Pat Benatar song.

He sang along with the chorus in an off-key baritone. Caitlyn felt uncomfortable. She never knew how to react to people who enjoyed singing aloud, and she wondered vaguely if he ever did it in the car with Reid. Thankfully, the exit toward her house was just ahead.

“Turn right at the sign,” she said, uncertain as to how familiar he was with the area. He gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. But when they reached the turnoff point, the car remained on the same path.

“I…I think we missed it.”

He didn’t respond. They passed by a lit billboard, and Caitlyn caught a second-long flash of his profile before it disappeared again into shadow. He’d stopped singing, his face stern and unreadable.

“Agent Tierney, did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” he replied in a calm tone. His fingers curled more tightly around the steering wheel. “There’s been a change of plans, Caity.”