Slow Burn (25 page)

Chapter Forty-one

Dylan’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. How could he have let this happen? Kate . . . oh, God, Kate . . . .

No sooner had he absorbed the news that she had disappeared than he heard a car screech to a stop in front of the building. Agent Kline had told him he would meet him at Smith and Wesson, but he didn’t get out of his car. He pounded on the horn.

The security guard who had left his post leaped out of the way in the nick of time, or Dylan would have plowed over him as he bolted out the door. His brain was on automatic now.

Kline had the window down and was shouting, “Get in! Let’s go, let’s go.” He leaned across the seat and pushed the passenger door open.

Dylan jumped inside. He was pulling the door closed when Kline hit the gas pedal. The car rocketed forward.

“Kate’s gone,” Dylan roared.

“I know,” Kline answered. “I heard it from dispatch. I know where she is,” Kline said, hoping to God he was right. “A call was patched through from Savannah PD. Vanessa left the hospital, said it was an emergency. She was meeting Ewan at Compton’s house. She’s been staying there, and I’m guessing Kate’s with her. Process of elimination,” he rushed on.

He ran a red light, turned left, and shot down the street.

“Vanessa told people where she was going? It could be a setup,” Kline said.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking,” Dylan said, trying to make sense of it all.

They both knew Kate could already be dead, but neither voiced the fear.

“Kate
has
to be there with Vanessa,” Dylan said. “And if she isn’t, I don’t know where they could have taken her. I never should have left her. I should have stayed.”

“We’re close,” Kline said. “And every available unit is on the way. We’ll get to her in time.” He took another corner on two wheels, straightened, and, tires squealing, sped on.

Dylan pulled his gun out of the holster, popped the magazine out, checked it, and then snapped it back in with the heel of his hand. “If anyone hurts Kate, I’ll kill them. And it’s not going to be quick or clean.”

Dylan’s tirade made Kline nervous. “Try to remember I’m a federal agent, okay? Don’t tell me you’re going to kill someone. That’s called premeditated murder. You’re a detective. You know that.”

Dylan shoved the gun back in the holster. “Can’t you drive faster?”

The radio in the police car Kline had commandeered crackled to life as dispatch relayed the 911 call from Vanessa.

Dylan heard the word “bomb.” It felt like a crushing blow hit him in the gut.

The dispatcher was routing police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks to the neighborhood. Kline got on the radio and gave the operator his approximate ETA.

They turned onto a four-lane, heavily congested street flying past other vehicles. Most drivers pulled over when they heard the siren, but there were a few who either hadn’t heard the noise or had heard it and didn’t care. Kline swung the car in and out with the efficiency of a NASCAR driver.

Dylan still thought he could do better, go faster.

“Vanessa’s saying Ewan’s got a bomb, right?” Kline asked.

“It’s not Ewan,” Dylan shouted.

“I know, I know,” Kline said. “You convinced me, but what I’m trying to say is that I don’t think it’s been detonated yet. If it’s anything like the other two bombs, we’d have heard about it by now.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Dylan actually felt a kernel of hope. “I never told her . . .”

“Told her what?”

He didn’t answer. “You’re slowing down.”

“The hell I am. We’re closing in. Bomb squad should be right behind us. Damn, another bomb. Third time’s the charm? We’ve got to get this prick.”

Kline spotted an ambulance in his rearview mirror weaving in and out of traffic. “One more turn up ahead and straight about a mile,” he said. “In this ritzy neighborhood, the estates are spread out—that’s good because I hate to think—” He stopped, but not in time.

Dylan finished the thought. “If the houses are crammed together and a bomb goes off, the number of casualties escalates. You think I don’t know the problems?” he snapped.

Kline shouted back. “I don’t want
you
to become my problem, got that? You’re involved with Kate, aren’t you? I can hear it in your voice and see it in your face. Emotional involvement makes you a risk. You’ve got to keep it together, or you’ll be no help at all.”

Kline didn’t slow down enough when he turned the corner, nearly putting the car into a spin. Quickly compensating, he regained control.

“When this is over, Kline, you need to take driver’s ed. You drive like an old lady.”

“I’m going sixty down a residential street.”

Ahead there was a four-way stop. Two police cars raced toward the intersection from opposite directions. Kline fishtailed around the stop signs, narrowly missing both cars.

Cars rushed at the MacKenna mansion from every direction. Two police cars blocked the street, and the uniforms were cordoning off the area. One signaled Kline to stop, but he ignored the directive, driving over the curb toward the iron gates. Through the trees, Dylan glimpsed the house. An ambulance was parked next to another car which obstructed his view of the people clustered together.

Kline had a better vantage point. “Hallinger’s here. That’s his car, isn’t it?”

“I don’t see Kate. Do you see Kate?” Dylan asked, reaching for the door handle.

“Hold on! Let me get inside the gate. Keep looking,” Kline urged. “Ah, there’s Vanessa. Over on the right. You let me handle her, you hear me?”

“I don’t see Kate. I don’t see her.”

“Bomb squad’s here. They’re getting ready now. Dylan, what the hell are you—”

Kline slammed on the brakes, but Dylan was already out of the car and running flat out toward the gates. Cursing, Kline put the car in park, jumped out, and chased him.

“Dylan, hold on, hold on,” Kline shouted.

Dylan wasn’t listening. He was frantically seaching for Kate while Kline was frantically trying to get to him before he did anything crazy.

Dylan veered around the bomb squad van. Two policemen stood with Vanessa, who was sobbing and pointing to the house. One of them spotted Dylan coming toward them and ran to intercept him.

“Have you seen Kate MacKenna?” Dylan demanded.

“We just got here, and were the first on the scene. An ambulance followed us in, and a Detective Nate Hallinger pulled in behind us.”

Kline caught up, panting for breath.

The policeman continued, “Vanessa MacKenna told us there are people inside. Detective Hallinger just took off, the crazy idiot. He’s going to try to get them out before the bomb goes off. I couldn’t stop him.”

Dylan was already gone. He crossed the drive, vaulting over the hood of a car that was in his way, and sprinted up the hill.

Kate was still inside . . . if the bomb exploded . . . something must have gone wrong because the house was still standing. Maybe Vanessa hadn’t timed it right . . . maybe she called it in too soon. What the hell was the plan? His thoughts raced. There had to be a backup plan.

He’d just reached the mansion’s entryway when he heard a gunshot.

He pulled his gun, flipped off the safety, and stealthily moved inside the house. There was no one in sight.

Nate stood at the library door at the back of the house. He had jammed the lock in his hurry to get inside and had been forced to shoot it and kick the door to get in. He took the entire room in at once. Ewan was on the floor, face up, eyes closed. Nate searched for Kate, but couldn’t find her. He saw the basket of flowers on the desk and rocked back on his heels, knowing that it could go off any second. He opened his mouth to call for Kate, but only a strangled sound escaped. He felt the barrel of a gun against the back of his head.

“Drop the gun or you’re dead.”

Dylan stood behind him.

Nate flinched. “What are you doing? Are you crazy? Get your gun away from me! I’m trying to get Kate and Ewan out before—”

“Drop the gun, you son of a bitch.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Nate roared.

“Where’s Kate?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to save her,” he said.

“Don’t you mean ‘kill her’? Were you going to use Ewan’s gun or your own? Nice and tidy, right? Make it look like Ewan shot her. Then you’re the hero if you take him down.”

“That’s nuts. Why would I—”

Dylan cut him off. “You made a big mistake. You knew about the money, and you hadn’t even talked to the attorney yet.” Dylan pushed the barrel harder against Nate’s skull and shouted, “Where is she?”

“I’m telling you, you’ve got this all—”

“I’m here.” The library door behind them edged forward, and Kate stepped around it, a pair of scissors raised in her right hand. She lowered her arm and in a stunned voice, she said, “I thought Vanessa was coming back, I—”

Nate’s gun had been pointed at Ewan, but he inched the barrel up toward the basket on the desk. “I’m not going down for this, Dylan. I pull this trigger, and we all die. Hand over your gun and nobody gets hurt. Kate’s gonna be my insurance. She’ll walk out with me, and everyone stays alive. I’ve got nothing to lose. Now hurry up and decide. This bomb could go at any second.”

Dylan didn’t lower his gun. “Kate, get out of here. Run.”

“But Dylan—”

“Go! Now!”

Kate didn’t budge. “Dylan—”

The door in the front of the house burst open. Nate’s head turned for a split second. Like lightning, Dylan’s free hand chopped Nate’s arm and sent his gun flying. In one motion, Dylan kicked his feet out and threw him to the floor, holding him with his foot, his gun still pointed at Nate’s head.

The bomb squad rushed toward the library in their full protective gear, and Dylan shouted to them as he pulled Nate to his knees. “Get Kate out first. And take Ewan. Hurry!”

Kate was finally able to speak. As the team stepped toward her, she put her hand up. “It’s not necessary, I—”

Dylan had Nate on his feet now and gave him a shove toward the door.

“Now, Kate!” Dylan ordered.

“You don’t understand—” Kate went to the desk and put the scissors down, then she opened her other hand. A blue wire just a few inches long lay in her palm. “The bomb isn’t going to explode.”

“But how do you know . . . ?” Dylan began.

She gave a relieved smile and said. “You’ll never guess who called me.”

Chapter Forty-two

Leaning against the side of a squad car, too weary to move, Kate quietly watched all the commotion.

Dylan was talking to a lieutenant with Savannah PD, but he kept glancing over at her—probably making sure she didn’t disappear again.

The paramedics carried Ewan out of the house on a stretcher. He was still unconscious, but she heard one of the policemen say that Ewan was expected to recover. Whenever he did open his eyes, he’d find himself handcuffed to a hospital bed. There were several charges pending against him. Supplying his brother with a stolen gun that had been used in a crime was going to top the list of offenses.

By now, reporters and cameramen from all the television stations that had been monitoring the 911 calls had arrived, but they were being kept outside the gates.

Most of the cameramen focused on the house, expectantly waiting for the suspect to step outside, but Vanessa was getting some attention, too. She was hysterical, and this time it wasn’t an act.

“You’re making a terrible mistake,” she sobbed. “I’m a
victim
here! I was trying to save lives when I called nine-one-one. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m a victim!” she screamed.

She had just been handcuffed by an agent who was telling her she had the right to remain silent. When he was finished reading her her rights, he asked her if she understood. She pulled herself together long enough to say yes, she understood, but then she started screaming again. Her shrieks were grating and terribly annoying.

“Really, lady, you have the right to remain silent. I strongly urge you to exercise that right.”

A detective who had loaned Kate his cell phone came back to retrieve it. Handing it to him, she was thanking him when Dylan joined her.

“Did you get hold of Isabel?” he asked.

She smiled. “Yes, and she’s just fine. I knew she would be, but I needed to hear her voice. I also called Kiera, and she’s okay, too,” she said. “When Nate came running into Smith and Wesson’s conference room and told me Reece had taken Isabel and that she’d been hurt, I panicked. I didn’t think twice about following him out the back door. The only thing I remember is getting in his car . . . and then I woke up on the library floor.”

“It’s good to know they’re okay, but what about you? Are you okay?” He put his arm around her and squeezed her.

“Yes,” she assured him. She looked up at the house and asked, “Why are they taking so long to bring Nate out?”

“They’re doing everything by the book,” he said. “And it hasn’t been long. You’re just anxious to get out of here, aren’t you?”

“Could we leave now?”

“No.”

Two paramedics hurried across the driveway to Kate. Dylan saw them coming. “They’re going to want to check you out,” he said.

“I’m fine, really.”

One of the paramedics, hearing her protest, said, “We should look you over, take your vitals and all.” He flashed a penlight in her eyes. “Not dilated.”

“Kate, go with them, make sure. I’ll wait here,” Dylan said.

Though Kate insisted none of this was necessary, she walked to the ambulance with them and let them take her blood pressure and pulse. She admitted to herself that she wasn’t feeling all that great. She was sure that her nausea wasn’t caused by the drug she’d been given. Finding out the truth about Nate Hallinger had made her sick. She didn’t mention her queasy stomach to the paramedics.

Once she’d been declared no worse for the wear, a paramedic offered his hand and was assisting her out of the ambulance when he glanced up the hill and saw several men exit the house.

“Hey, they’re bringing the suspect down the hill now. Uh-oh. It looks like the detective you were with is waiting for him, and look at his face.” He turned to his partner. “We may not be done here, after all.”

Dylan had turned away, and Kate couldn’t see his face. She ran to him, praying Dylan wouldn’t do anything crazy. No, of course he wouldn’t. His hand wasn’t on his gun. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? And his arms were folded across his chest. His stance suggested he was relaxed.

That wasn’t a good sign. She wished she could see Dylan’s expression. She’d know then.

“Dylan,” she called out.

“Stay back, Kate.”

She reached him. He didn’t look at her when he said, “I told you to stay back.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Since when have I ever done anything you’ve told me to do?”

“Kate . . .” The warning was in his voice.

The ambulance was about ten feet behind her. Dylan grabbed her hand and practically dragged her there. “Get inside.”

She stood her ground. “You aren’t going to do anything stupid, are you?”

“No.”

She wasn’t sure she could believe him. “Don’t even talk to him.”

“He was going to kill you,” he reminded her.

Agent Kline shouted something to Dylan.

“Stay here, Kate,” Dylan said. “Please.”

“All right,” she relented.

He looked as if he didn’t believe her. “I mean it.”

Dylan turned and walked toward Nate, stopping when he was just a few feet away. Kline had a grip on Nate’s arm as he led him down the hill. He’d taken great pleasure in putting the handcuffs on the detective. Police officers and detectives were moving in, forming a circle around them as they headed toward a squad car.

Nate glared at Dylan. “This is never going to stick. You’ve got nothing.”

“We have enough,” Kline said cheerfully.

“If you have anything, it’s circumstantial.”

Dylan’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You sure have had your troubles, haven’t you? And I’ll bet you thought it was all gonna be so easy. One bomb, and
boom
, problem solved. Kate’s dead before she ever finds out about the will.”

“No, you’re wrong.”

“How long were you with Savannah PD?” Kline asked Nate.

Dylan answered for him. “Long enough to meet Vanessa and start shacking up with her. It was common knowledge that she was sleeping around. Come to find out—and I did find out—you were the one.”

“You hatched your plan and transferred to the Charleston police force,” Kline said. “You had to distance yourself from Vanessa, and you also wanted to find out everything you could about Kate.”

“I transferred because there was an opening, and I wanted a change,” Nate argued.

“What you wanted was eighty million dollars, you prick,” Dylan said. “Vanessa was behind the camera filming the old man. Compton trusted her, and he asked her to film his video. She must have been real pissed off when Compton looked into the camera and said he was giving it all to Kate. He’d already changed the will so it wouldn’t do her any good to kill him after the fact.”

“She told you all about it, didn’t she?” Kline said.

“You can’t prove—” Nate objected.

“You’re the one who checked her alibi the day the video was made. You said it was airtight. Why would I think you were lying?” Dylan said.

Nate didn’t respond, but then, Dylan didn’t expect him to. “Did you have the connections to get to the Florist, or did you go to Jackman and offer him a deal he couldn’t refuse?”

“You can’t prove a damn thing. This is all speculation.”

“It got complicated, didn’t it?” Kline said, ignoring his protests. “Kate wouldn’t cooperate. Two explosions, and she’s stayed alive. Her good luck, and your bad. Did you buy all three bombs at the same time, or did you have to keep going back for more?”

“You knew Kate would be at Carl’s party,” Dylan said. “You knew before it was in the paper. Carl was your source, even though he didn’t know it. He likes to promote Kate’s company, and he does a lot of charity events in Savannah. Compton mentioned Vanessa’s good works had helped uphold the MacKenna name. Vanessa was smart enough not to meet Carl, but she was always there, listening, wasn’t she? You knew way in advance and had time to plan it just right.”

“You just happened to be in the area when the bomb went off,” Kline added. “First on the scene and first to find Kate. Must have disappointed you to see she was still breathing.”

“This is ridiculous,” Nate shouted.

Once again Kline and Dylan ignored his outrage.

“Putting Reece Crowell’s name on the paper in Roger’s apartment was overkill, don’t you think? Were you trying to confuse us, or was it supposed to be a little clue?” Dylan said.

“You kept having to change the plan, didn’t you?” Dylan continued. “You killed Roger and planted the evidence to frame Ewan. This last bomb was meant to kill Kate and Ewan, of course, but the sucker didn’t go off. So you had to get in there and take care of it yourself.”

“Ewan’s gun and his cell phone were in your pocket,” Kline said.

“I can explain that,” Nate said.

“Can you explain telling Kate that Reece had her sister?”

“I thought he did . . . Ewan called me . . .”

Kline looked at Dylan. “Whew. He’s dancing so fast, I can hardly see his feet. Can you?”

“You’re a greedy son of a bitch, Nate,” Dylan said. “But you made a big mistake. Remember what you said to me? ‘I heard she turned it down.’ Got me thinking. How could you have known that? Vanessa left before Kate changed her mind and accepted the inheritance. You heard it from Vanessa.”

“Anderson told me.”

“Yeah, that’s what I assumed for a while anyway. Turns out Anderson has a great memory. He hadn’t even talked to you yet. You see, Nate, my watch keeps real good time, and I know it wasn’t more than ten minutes after we left the office that I talked to you. Anderson remembers your call, all right, but he swears it took at least fifteen minutes to wrap up his business with the police when they came to confiscate Roger’s gun, and then he was summoned back to his office to accept your call. You know what? Anderson has the phone logs to prove it.”

“Nice guesswork, Dylan, but none of it will hold up.”

“I think it will,” Dylan said. “Vanessa will give you up.” He nodded in her direction. “Look at her. She’s watching you, and if looks could kill . . . Well, let’s just say she doesn’t look like she’s your biggest fan right now. When she realizes what she’s facing, she’ll deal.”

Talk about timing.

As Vanessa was being forced into the backseat of a police car, she erupted, “I didn’t do anything! It was all
his
idea. I’m innocent!”

Everyone heard her.

Dylan’s smile was genuine now. “There you go.”