Out of Reach: A Novel (20 page)

“Erin, that was nineteen years ago. Your memory is playing tricks on you.”

“It was the same man, Dr. Schaeffer. Now, I need to know who else had access to Claire yesterday.”

He sighed and dropped into his desk chair. “That’s the same question the FBI has been asking, and I’ll tell you what I told them. Other than you and your family, no one but the staff has access to Claire.” He lifted his hands, palms up, in exasperation. “And Agent Hart has the employee files and has been going through them all morning.”

“There must be somebody.” Erin folded her arms, looked at the chair across from him, but knew she was too edgy to sit. She had all she could do to keep from pacing. “Someone new?”

He shook his head. “I can personally vouch for all my employees. We only hire—”

She cut him off. “Think, Dr. Schaeffer.” She moved to his desk and rested her hands on the edge. “What about people visiting other patients? Could one of them have slipped into Claire’s room? Maybe someone on the grounds crew? Or the kitchen staff?”

Pressing his lips together, he continued to shake his head. “We are very strict about that kind of thing, Erin. We never—” He suddenly stopped. “Wait, there was someone.” He paused. “No, that can’t be it.”

She went still. “Who?”

“No, it’s impossible.”

“
Who,
Dr. Schaeffer?” It took all her willpower to keep from leaping across the desk and grabbing him by the collar.

“Well, Dr. Holmes was here yesterday. He spoke to Claire, but as I said, Dr. Holmes is . . .”

Coldness crept into her voice. “Is what?”

“He’s a highly respected psychiatrist, who’s just in town for a couple of days. He’s attending a seminar in D.C. and wanted to see . . .” It hit him then. She could see it in his eyes.

“Claire?” Erin made an effort to remain calm.

“Yes, but—”

“Did he ask to
see
Claire?”

Fear had replaced the shock on Schaeffer’s face. “I was with him the entire time. He didn’t touch her.”

No. He wouldn’t. Not with witnesses around. “Is he still here?” Not daring to hope.

“He was this morning.”

She pulled out the 9mm Beretta and checked the clip.

“What are you doing with that?”

“Whatever’s necessary.” Then, at his look of horror, she added, “Don’t worry, I know how to use it.”

She shoved the weapon back into the waistband of her jeans. “Let’s go find this Dr. Holmes.” She grabbed Schaeffer’s arm and half pushed, half pulled him into the hall.

That’s when Schaeffer seemed to get himself together, shaking free of her hold and straightening his jacket. “Shouldn’t we let Agent Hart know about this?”

“She won’t have a clue who to look for.”
And she might get in my way.

“And you will?”

“I told you, I’ve seen him.”

Schaeffer pursed his lips, obviously doubting her, but no longer arguing. “I expect he’s visiting with one of the patients. This way.” He started down the hall toward the dayroom.

He wasn’t there. Neither Schaeffer’s Dr. Holmes, nor the man Erin knew as the Magician.

“He could be in one of the patients’ rooms,” Schaeffer said, and snagged a passing nurse. “Carol, have you seen Dr. Holmes?”

“Yes, Doctor. He’s outside with Tara.”

“Thank you,” he said, hurrying to catch up to Erin, who was already moving toward the large doors leading to the patio.

Outside, Erin scanned the patients and staff scattered about the yard. At a distance, no one looked familiar. She needed to see the Magician up close or in motion in order to recognize him.

“There he is.” Dr. Schaeffer nodded toward a tall man, garbed in the typical white jacket, across the expanse of manicured lawn. “With Tara.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’d know Dr. Holmes anywhere.”

That surprised her. She’d assumed Holmes was a fake. “You mean you know him?”

“Well, not personally. Or I didn’t. But I’ve attended several of his lectures.”

She took a deep breath. Was it too much to hope that they’d not only found the Magician but identified him as well?

“Okay, Doctor, I want you to go back inside and get Agent Hart. Tell her we’ve found the Magician.”

He seemed ready to argue.

“Just do it,” she emphasized.

He hesitated, not used to taking orders, then disappeared into the building.

Erin pulled out her weapon, holding it close to her leg, and started toward the couple. They were on the opposite side of the grounds, near the boundary between the grass and the trees. As she passed an orderly and an old woman in a wheelchair, the man’s eyes widened at the sight of the gun.

“Get her inside,” Erin said, without taking her eyes off Dr. Holmes and the woman with him.

The orderly obeyed.

Erin stopped a few hundred yards away from the distinguished doctor and Schaeffer’s patient. “Dr. Holmes. Move away from her.”

He looked up, surprised, then smiled. And she knew. Though they looked nothing alike, she’d seen him at least twice before. Once in Jamestown Park, three days ago. And before that in Miami, nineteen years ago.

“Is something the matter, Officer Baker?”

“Just step away from the woman. Slowly.”

“And let you shoot me?”

The woman looked at Erin for the first time, her face registering shock. “She has a gun. Oh, my God. Dr. Holmes, that woman has a gun.”

“You’re frightening her, Officer Baker.”

“She has nothing to do with this, Holmes. It’s between you and me.”

He raised his hands, mocking her. “Don’t shoot.”

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” The woman folded in on herself, rocking in place.

“No one’s going to get shot.” Though Erin’s finger itched on the gun at her side. “Just step away, Holmes.”

“Whatever you say.” He backed away, keeping the woman between them, easing around until he was just on the edge of the trees. His smile broadened. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today, Erin. But since you’re here . . .” Then he turned, darting into the woods.

Erin raised her gun, and the woman screamed.

“Damn.” Erin couldn’t fire and risk hitting the hysterical patient. Dropping the gun back to her side, she took off after him, leaving the woman’s shrill voice behind.

Within a few feet, the woods closed in around her. Cool. Dark. And dense. She slowed. Leading with the gun, she kept moving. Ahead, a strip of white, and she picked up her pace. It was his coat, draped like a flag over a bush.

Silence. Not even the sound of insects.

He was close. She could feel him watching her, the sensation crawling over her skin. Then movement to her right, and she spun around as a blue blur disappeared into the trees.

She followed, breathing deeply to still the fear nudging at her insides. He was leading her deeper into the woods and farther away from the hospital grounds and help.

Behind her, a twig snapped.

Erin pivoted with the gun. Again. Nothing.

He was toying with her, making her jumpy. And it was working. She needed calm. Fear was a killer.

“Come on, Dr. Holmes,” she said, using words to bolster her courage. “Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be. There’s no way out. You can’t hide anymore. We know who you are.”

She sensed his amusement, like that day on the trail, floating toward her across the silence and sending a chill down her spine. Stirring fear. It was his specialty. His special gift. Knowing that, however, did little to ease hers.

To her right again, a rustling of bushes. She swung around, barely keeping herself from firing. Panic. She had to fight it. It would kill her, like fear, only faster.

In the distance, she heard shouts from the hospital grounds and clung to the sound.

“Hear that,” she said. “Pretty soon these woods will be crawling with FBI agents.”
Only two,
whispered the fear.
And too far away.
“Make it easy on yourself and surrender. That way, no one will get hurt.”

Too late she sensed it. The swoosh of air. As something hard came down on her hands, breaking her gun grip. Sending it skittering into the underbrush. Pain rippling up her arms. So fast. She’d only begun to react, to turn toward the assault, when a heavy stick slammed into her head, buckling her knees, dazing her.

She saw the next strike coming. The black boot. And tried to roll. Her body responding in slow motion. And the kick caught her in the shoulder, sending her sprawling.

Then he was on her, one hand in her hair, the other wrenching her arm behind her back, pressing her face into the moldy forest floor.

“And here I thought you were going to be a challenge.” His breath was hot and sickly on her cheek.

“Let me up, you son of a bitch.”

“I don’t think so. You see, you ruined everything, all my plans. Claire was supposed to die first.”

Erin shoved against him with all her strength, but his hold was too tight, too secure. “Haven’t you hurt her enough?”

“I wasn’t going to touch her. She was going to do it herself. Fitting, don’t you think?”

“I’ll kill you, you—”

“Such brave words. Or is it just anger I hear in your voice, knowing you won’t be there to protect your sister next time I go for her? Or little Janie?”

A blinding rage ripped through her. And frustration.

Suddenly, from the direction of the hospital, she heard shouts. And found a thread of hope. “They’re coming for you,” she said, the words coming out in a broken gasp, the pain in her arm, her shoulder, making it difficult to speak. But she forced the words out. “And you’re going to pay for every child you hurt.”

“Maybe.” He wrenched her arm a little higher, a little more painfully, and she bit her tongue to keep from keening in pain. “But they won’t be in time to save you.”

Again, the sounds of approaching voices gave her strength, and she opened her mouth to scream. Again, she was too slow. And saw the big silver ring seconds before it slammed into her temple.

Everything went black.

XXVII

T
HEY BROUGHT HER
out on a stretcher.

Alec met them at the edge of the woods, taking in her pale features, her bandaged wrists, the angry red lump and ragged cut across her temple.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” said one of the paramedics. “She’s lucky to be alive. That blow to the temple could have killed her. If he’d had better aim, it would have.”

“What about her wrists?” Alec asked.

“Can’t be sure without an X ray, but they look to be severely bruised, not broken.”

Erin’s eyes opened, disoriented and unfocused. Then they found Alec’s, and she blinked into awareness. “Holmes?” Her voice was weak and hoarse.

“We’re combing the woods and surrounding area,” Alec answered. “And we’ve set up roadblocks. We’ll get him.”

She stirred, as if trying to rise, and Alec pressed her back down. “Don’t try to move. You’re in pretty bad shape.”

“Just need some aspirin.” She lifted a trembling hand to her temple. “Feels like he stomped on my head.”

They’d reached the parking lot, and the paramedics set the stretcher atop a collapsible gurney behind the ambulance.

“Can we have a few minutes?” Alec asked.

“Sure.” The paramedics disappeared, and Erin again tried to sit up.

“Will you stop?” Alec again refused to let her rise. “We’ve already established that you’re Superwoman, you don’t need to keep proving it.”

She frowned at him, a sure sign she was going to live. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were off watching Neville.”

“I was. But Agent Hart contacted me about Claire, and I thought I could help out here.”

“Well, you’re too late. The bad guy’s already fled the scene.”

He had to smile, though he’d already kicked himself for not getting there sooner. Before Erin. Or at least before she’d gone chasing after Holmes in the woods. If Alec hadn’t stopped at his motel for a shower and a few hours’ sleep, he would have arrived first.

“Did you find out anything about Neville?” she asked.

He hesitated. She needed rest, not more to worry about.

“Donovan, tell me.”

She still sounded tired and weak, but determined, and he knew she wouldn’t let up. So he told her about the graves on Neville’s property and his encounter with Digger.

He glanced at his watch. “I thought he’d call by now. He’s unhappy about whatever’s going on out there, and I think he’s on the verge of asking for help.”

“Give him time. Meanwhile, we need to find out whose bodies are in those graves.”

“
We
don’t need to do anything. You’re going to the hospital for X rays and observation. I’ll find out about the graves.” Though he hadn’t yet figured out how.

Cathy joined them, having obviously overheard the last part of their conversation, and said, “Why not go to Neville and ask his permission to dig up the graves? He’s not going to refuse. If he does, he’ll look guilty.”

“She’s right,” Erin agreed, again attempting to sit up, and this time succeeding only because Cathy gave her a hand.

Alec shot the other agent a look meant to maim.

“All he can do is refuse,” Erin was saying as she gripped the side of the gurney. “And I don’t think he will. He’s just arrogant enough to let us. He’ll either claim no knowledge or diplomatic immunity.”

“You okay?” Cathy asked.

“Just a little dizzy.”

Cathy held up a plastic evidence bag, containing a 9mm Beretta. “Is this yours?”

“A lot of good it did me.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. It looks like he did a number on your wrists.”

Erin lifted her bandaged arms, her disgust obvious. “Yeah.”

“The gun’s evidence,” Cathy said, “so I can’t return it to you right now, but you’ll get it back later. Anything else out there we should be looking for?”

“Just whatever club he used to hit me with.”

Cathy smiled tightly and nodded, then to Alec said, “What about Neville?”

“I’ll pay him a visit,” Alec agreed.

“I’m going,” Erin said.

“No, you’re not.” Then, directly to Cathy, he said, “Officer Baker needs to go to the hospital.”

“Help me down,” Erin said to Cathy, ignoring him. “I’m going with Donovan.”

Alec tried again. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere.”

Ignoring him, she slid off the gurney, Cathy taking one hand, Alec grabbing the other when he saw she was going to try to stand, with or without his help.

“This is not a good idea,” he said.

“Just give me a minute,” she replied. “If I can’t walk, then I’ll do what you say and go to the hospital.” She tried a tentative step, then another. Although she looked like she’d had a few too many, she kept her feet under her.

“Okay,” she admitted. “I may not be ready to drive, but I can walk.”

In the end, he agreed to let her come along. He knew if he didn’t, she’d find some other way to get to Washington and into Neville’s face.

The paramedic had protested, as had Dr. Schaeffer after a quick examination. Neither man had any better luck than Alec at changing her mind. So, with warnings about possible sleepiness or nausea, Erin climbed into the front seat of Alec’s FBI-issued Taurus.

Cathy remained behind to oversee the manhunt for Jacob Holmes and start the investigation into his past. With luck she’d be able to either confirm or eliminate him as the Magician.

They drove for about fifteen minutes without speaking, then Alec glanced at her to see how she was holding up. She sat with her head against the headrest, her eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m not sleeping, Donovan. Just waiting for the aspirin to kick in.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?”

“Positive. Except for the mother of all headaches, I’m fine.”

Another hesitation, then he asked, “What happened out there?”

At first, he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she said, “Did you know I give martial-arts demonstrations to ex-military types?”

He didn’t, but it didn’t surprise him either.

“I show them how someone my size can take down someone a lot bigger.” She paused. “And in every class some form of the same question always comes up. Usually from one of the women, because the men, well, they never consider the possibility. But the women—they live every day with the realities of their sex.

“Anyway, the question is always something like, what happens, Officer Baker, when you run into someone just as good but bigger? How do you come away in one piece?”

“What’s your answer?”

“I tell them it comes down to one simple factor. Who gets meaner quicker.” She looked at Alec then, and he saw true fear in her eyes. “That’s what happened. I never even saw him coming, and by the time I knew I was in a fight for my life, it was already over.” She closed her eyes again. “He got meaner quicker.”

For long moments, the silence settled around them as the car sped east toward Washington. Overhead, clouds moved in to obscure the sunlight, promising a dreary afternoon. Along the road, the first flash of fall had touched the trees. Almost overnight.

He thought of the woman sitting in the passenger seat beside him. The more time he spent with her, the more she intrigued him. She was complex, made up of layers upon layers, overlapping and entwined.

He’d seen the warrior first. It was the person she showed the world, her strength a shell that protected her and kept everyone else at a distance. But he’d seen flashes of the nurturer as well, the woman who took care of her broken sister and young niece, vulnerable and compassionate, the guilt tearing at her from the inside, carefully hidden.

Now he’d just gotten his first glimpse of the woman facing her own mortality, and he found himself wanting to step between her and whatever threatened her.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” he said, careful not to look at her in case she could read his thoughts.

“Yes.”

“Why was he still there?”

She turned her head to look at him, without lifting it from the seat.

“I mean . . .” Alec hesitated. “If he’d gone to Gentle Oaks to kill Claire, and you got to her first, then why stick around? Why wait for you to come looking for him?”

“Maybe he thought I’d bring Claire back, or he could find out where I’d taken her.” She turned her head and closed her eyes again.

He thought about it, and threw out another possibility. “Maybe he was waiting for you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He looked surprised to see me, and he told me Claire was supposed to die first.”

“First?”

For a moment she didn’t answer. “Yeah,” she said finally. “It seems I messed up his plans.”

General Neville’s butler allowed them into the front hall of the Georgetown mansion, though he wasn’t happy about it. Alec’s badge had no effect. The man obviously knew the FBI had no jurisdiction over his employer and wasn’t even moderately intimidated. Finally, it was their simple refusal to leave the premises before seeing Neville that got them through the door.

They waited. Ten minutes. Fifteen.

Erin lowered herself onto the front steps because there was nowhere else to sit. Alec fumed at her because she belonged in a hospital, and at Neville for leaving them waiting, no doubt just because he could. Alec considered barging through the house looking for the man but thought better of it. That action, of course, would be stupid enough to land his ass behind bars.

Finally, after forty-five minutes, the butler reappeared, shooting Erin a disapproving look where she rested on the front steps. “General Neville will see you now.”

Alec could tell the words pained the man, but he led them down a narrow hallway and through a set of double doors into William Neville’s study.

Everything about the room screamed money. Dark, heavy furniture. Rugs worth more than Alec earned in a year. Artwork that looked familiar enough to be authentic and original. Even the man himself, sitting behind an ornately carved wooden desk, impeccably groomed and polished.

He kept them waiting again as he perused some papers on his desk and signed a couple of others. Alec had about run out of patience when Erin lost hers.

“Excuse us, General,” she said, “but we really don’t have all day.”

He looked up then. Smiled. “Why, Ms. Baker, how good it is to see you again. And you’re looking particularly lovely this afternoon.”

“You like it?” There was an edge to her voice that hadn’t been there the night of the embassy party. “It’s the barroom-brawl look. I thought maybe you had arranged it for me.”

“Me? No. Although I have to tell you, I’m not surprised someone else did. It was only a matter of time.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Alec touched her arm to remind her why they were here. Then he pulled out his identification and flipped it open. “General, I’m Special Agent Alec Donovan—”

“Yes, yes,” Neville interrupted. “I know who you are, Agent Donovan. You’ve been entertaining Ms. Baker here ever since that unfortunate incident with the missing girl. So what does the United States FBI want with me?”

“Just information.” Alec returned the leather ID to his jacket pocket, not bothering to question Neville about how he knew him. Or Chelsea Madden. Asking would only exaggerate the farce.

“We have a report that several of your household staff were burying bodies on your property in Middleburg last night.”

“A report?” Neville leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers beneath his chin.

“Yes, sir.”

“And where did you get such a report?” Neville spread his hands before leaning forward and folding them on his desk. “I would hate to think that the U.S. government was spying on its foreign diplomats.” Of course, surveillance of that kind was standard operating procedure, though everyone pretended otherwise.

“The information came from hikers who wandered onto your property by mistake.”

“At night?”

“They were lost.” He could feel Erin’s impatience beside him, but she held her tongue. Fortunately. And her temper. Alec understood. It took all his resolve to remain polite—when he would have preferred stringing up this guy by his silk necktie.

“Of course. And now you want to know about the bodies.”

“I’m certain we want the same thing, General.”

“I doubt it.” Neville arched an eyebrow. “Besides, I already know what bodies are in those graves, Agent Donovan.”

Of course you do.
“Would you care to enlighten us?”

“If you like.” Again he leaned back in his chair, relaxed and confident. “I lost two of my dogs yesterday. Loyal, good animals. The first was poisoned. By your hikers perhaps?” He shifted his attention to Erin, briefly, then refocused on Alec. “And the second was shot before he could maul a trespasser. Again, maybe your hikers know something of that.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your pets, General—”

“Not pets, Agent Donovan. Guard dogs.”

“We’d still like your permission to dig up the graves, General.”

Neville studied them, then dismissed them with a flick of his wrist. “A waste of time. But it is your time.” Nodding to one of his men, he added, “Accompany Agent Donovan and Ms. Baker out to the estate and make sure everyone cooperates with them.”

“Will you be joining us, General?” Alec asked.

“I am afraid not,” he said. “I’m leaving your country tomorrow, and I have work to do.”

Alec would have preferred watching Neville’s reaction to the graves, but he couldn’t insist. So he expressed his gratitude, and he and Erin followed two men in a dark sedan, the same two Alec had seen the night before while watching the Georgetown address.

About thirty miles outside the city, it started to rain. A slow, steady drizzle that was somehow harder to take than a downpour. They rode in silence for some time, the wipers clicking against the windshield, the tires streaming across wet asphalt.

“That was too easy,” Erin said finally.

“Yep. Makes me think we’re going to find dogs in those graves.” A good thing, though it got them no further with the hunt for Cody Sanders.

“Maybe he’s already moved the bodies you saw buried last night.”

“And killed his dogs to cover it up?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. No, I think Neville’s telling the truth.” Alec paused, running the previous night’s events through his mind. “But those dogs hurt someone before they died. Digger bought enough medical supplies to stock a small emergency room.”