The Inner Sanctum (34 page)

"Sorry, Helga." Jesse suddenly realized she hadn't answered the first time. "I already have them."

"Okay. Is there anything else?"

"Did Sara ever call in?"

"No. She must have taken off again today. People are worried, though. She was supposed to visit her parents last night but didn't make it. She hasn't called them either."

Something was definitely wrong. Sara would never miss a dinner date with her parents and not call. "Did you talk to her parents?"

"Yes, first thing this morning."

"And you've heard nothing since?"

"No."

Jesse clutched the phone tightly. "Okay. Thanks for your help, Helga."

"Will you be in tomorrow, Jesse?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

"I don't mean to be rude, but, dear, you sound a little strange. As if something's bothering you."

"I'm fine," Jesse said firmly.

"All right. Well, call me in the morning if you won't be coming to work."

"I will. Can I ask you to do one more favor for me?"

"Of course."

"In my Rolodex is the number for Sara's parents. Can you get that?"

"Hold on a minute." A few seconds later Helga was back. "Here it is, dear."

Jesse jotted down the number quickly. "Thanks. I'll talk to you later." She accessed a new dial tone, then quickly punched out the numbers Helga had just given her.

"Hello." It was Sara's mother. Her voice was barely audible.

Jesse knew instantly that something was very wrong. "Mrs. Adams, it's Jesse."

"Oh, Jesse. I'm . . ." But Sara's mother could go no further. She broke down into terrible sobs.

"Jesse?"

"Yes." Jesse's voice shook.

"It's Bill Adams."

"Hello, Mr. Adams."

Sara's father could barely speak either. "They found Sara." He coughed. "She had a terrible car accident. Apparently she was going very fast and lost control. The car exploded. Her body was . . . burned beyond recognition. They had to use dental records . . ." He couldn't go on.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Adams." Jesse turned so that her face was pressed into the corner formed by the pay phone and the wall. Tears began streaming down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry." The car accident was a sham. Jesse shivered. The man who had chased her at Neil Robinson's river house had never stopped searching. He had been out there hunting the entire time. He had simply killed the wrong person.

"Jesse, I need to go. I'm sorry to be so short with you but I . . ."

"I understand." Jesse heard Sara's mother sobbing in the background.

"Good-bye."

"Bye." Jesse hung up the receiver slowly. David believed the conspiracy reached senior levels in the Senate and at the Pentagon. And people with that kind of power would go to any length to conceal their crimes. As he had said, those lengths would certainly include murdering an IRS revenue agent.

Guilt suddenly overcame her. They meant to kill me, Jesse thought to herself, and Sara suffered the consequences. She wiped her eyes and face with the back of her hand as a sob racked her body. The glove. Her pursuer must have found it and traced it to Sara.

Jesse began looking for a tissue in her purse, then froze. The man who had been coming out of her office that day asking for Sara. The picture of the man in the LFA personnel file. The eyes matched perfectly. She had been that close to death.

Now Elizabeth was trying desperately to reach Jesse, supposedly about a job offer. Why would Elizabeth be so specific about the purpose of the call? Especially when she was leaving the message at Jesse's current job. No one did that. Jesse leaned against the pay phone. Maybe they had realized their mistake by now. That they had gone after the wrong person. She hated to admit it, but David was right. Elizabeth's interest in bringing her to Sagamore was too coincidental.

Jesse pulled out another quarter, pushed it into the slot, began to punch out a number, then stopped abruptly. Was she out of her mind? Mitchell had said it himself. It was easier to play the game and earn two million a year. But he had moved her to the hotel, hadn't he? And then it hit her. Perhaps he was using her as a hostage without her even knowing. That check to LFA could represent his own fraud. Money he was moving for himself. Perhaps he was keeping himself out of a deadly situation by keeping her away from them.

The quarter fell through the pay phone as Jesse pushed down the receiver button before finishing the number sequence. She picked it up, reinserted it into the slot at the top, and punched out a different number. The line began to ring. "Answer! Come on!" Suddenly, she was petrified.

"Hello."

"Todd!"

"Jess?"

"Yes." He had tried to kiss her against her will in the parking lot and it had unnerved her. But it had to have been just a momentary lapse of judgment on his part. Perhaps he had gotten caught up in the moment with their escape from LFA. Todd was still the only one she could really trust at this point, and she needed someone desperately.

"Where are you?"

"In the Towson Mall. Todd, I'm scared."

"What's wrong?"

"I think I'm in a lot of trouble. I need to see you."

"When?"

"As soon as you can get here."

"Jess, I'm sorry again about what happened in the parking lot," he said sheepishly. "That was unforgivable."

"It's okay."

"Thanks. Look, I'll be right . . ." Through the farmhouse window, Todd noticed the sleek black Cadillac moving quickly down the long gravel driveway between the line of maple trees. "I'll meet you at the bar in the Friday's Restaurant in the west end of the mall. But give me a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours? Can't you make it any faster than that?"

"I'll try. Just be at the bar."

"All right."

"See you then." Todd slammed down the receiver, raced to the bureau, picked up the .38, shoved it into his shoulder holster, and moved back to the window. It was Harry the Horse. There was no mistaking that car. How the hell had he ever gotten himself mixed up with these people? It had seemed so innocent at the beginning. Just a small gambling debt he could take his time repaying, Harry had said. Now he owed them thirty thousand dollars, and if he didn't come up with the cash soon, they were going to make an unfriendly visit to his sister and her baby.

Harry pulled his Cadillac behind Todd's Corvette, effectively blocking its escape route--just as he had done the last time. He switched off the ignition, stepped from the vehicle and stretched, as if this were nothing more than a casual visit. A large accomplice stepped out of the passenger side, and they shared a laugh about the Corvette's damaged fenders as Todd emerged from the farmhouse front door.

"Hello, Todd," Harry yelled across the front yard. "Wonderful day, isn't it?"

"Uh huh." Todd moved cautiously down the three steps leading from the small landing outside the front door to the ground.

"I'm here for my money, Todd." Harry wasted no time.

"I thought I had more time."

Harry stroked his neck. "The payment plan's time frame has changed."

Harry's gorilla-size associate chuckled to himself.

"Why are you doing this to me, Harry?" Todd stopped twenty feet away from them. He felt the gun resting in the holster next to his chest. He would have no problem using it to defend himself against anyone but Mafia people. He might be fortunate enough to kill both of these goons, but then he'd be on the run for the rest of his life. The Mafia never stopped looking for outsiders who killed their comrades. "I'm good for the money."

Harry began to walk slowly toward Todd. "You know I like you, Todd, I really do," he said insincerely. "It's my bosses that are the problem. They've never met you. They don't know what a peach of a guy you are. I've been trying to tell them, but they just won't listen." Harry stopped five feet in front of Todd. "Ain't I been telling them, Anthony?" Harry called over his shoulder to the gorilla.

"Yeah, boss." Anthony smiled as he moved out from behind the black car and began ambling toward them. "You've been trying, but they just won't listen."

"There, you see?" Harry glanced back at Todd. "I've been pleading your case, but it hasn't helped. So do you have the money, Todd?"

"I'm . . . I'm getting it." He should have run out the back door into the woods when he first saw them coming down the driveway.

"Oh, yeah? From where?"

Todd eyed Anthony, now standing shoulder to shoulder with Harry. "My parents put some money away for me in a trust account. It's just a matter of getting all the paperwork executed so I can get to it."

"Oh, God." Harry made another face, as if he had just suffered a sharp pain.

"What's the matter?" Todd kept an eye on Anthony's right hand as it slid down toward his belt. Todd would pull the .38 if he had to. If it was the only option. He checked the driveway for any sign of someone Harry might have dropped off to serve as lookout, but saw nothing.

" 'Executed' is such a nasty word. I hope it won't apply in your case."

"Don't pull that intimidation crap on me, Harry."

"Crap?" It was as if Todd had suddenly flipped a switch deep within Harry. "Crap?" he screamed this time.

"Easy, Harry." Todd held up his hands.

Harry wasn't listening anymore. Veins bulged in his neck as he lunged toward Todd, hands outstretched. But Harry the Horse had collected his last payment.

The slug entered Harry's skull directly in the middle of his massive forehead, creating a neat hole in the pallid skin before tearing out the back of his head and ricocheting off the top of the Cadillac. Harry's eyes crossed instantly, as if he were trying to actually see the puncture wound while he staggered like a drunken man in front of Todd. Then the blood poured down his face and he crumpled to the ground.

Anthony reached for his weapon, but his fingers never touched metal. A second slug zipped through the air, smacking his broad chest with a sickening thud. He grabbed his shirt with both hands, ripping at the material, gasping for breath. A third shot cracked into the late afternoon, passing through Anthony's hand before tearing out a lung. He dropped into a heap next to Harry.

Todd fell to the ground and rolled behind the Corvette, pulling the .38 from his holster as he took cover. Behind the car he lay as flat and still as possible, pointing the revolver in the general direction from which he believed the three shots had come. Then a man stepped calmly from behind a corner of the farmhouse and began walking toward the Cadillac, rifle at his side. Todd trained the gun on the figure.

"Put the gun down," the man said as he moved past Todd to where the two Mafia men lay. The man knelt down next to Harry and felt for a pulse, but there was none to find. He moved to Anthony, and found the same result.

Todd kept the gun trained on the man. "Who the hell are you?" he screamed. "What are you doing here?"

"I'll explain later," the man growled as he grabbed Anthony under the arms. "Are you going to lie there with your mouth open, or are you going to get off your ass and help me put these guys in the trunk?"

Slowly Todd rose from the ground, shaking. The man could have easily killed him too. But he hadn't. "Who--"

"I told you. I'll explain," he yelled. "First we need to clean this place up."

"Jesse, I'm sorry I took so long." Todd moved to where Jesse sat at the bar. It was after eleven o'clock. Almost six hours had elapsed since she had called him.

"Are you okay?" She stood up and hugged him tightly. It felt so good to be wrapped in his strong arms. He was someone she could absolutely count on, she had concluded over the last few hours as she sat at the bar waiting. David's situation was much more complicated. He had other loyalties. There was no question of Todd's. "The bartender gave me your message about being late."

"Can I get you something?" Todd's arrival was obviously a disappointment to the bartender.

Todd saw the bartender's disappointment. Men were drawn to Jesse so fast. It had always been like that, and suddenly Todd felt the jealousy rising again, the same emotion he had felt watching her kiss David this morning in front of the hotel. He glanced cautiously around the restaurant, wondering once more--as he had since she had called this afternoon--why she had called him and not David. The jealousy burned hotter as the vision of their kiss became more vivid. "Coors Light, please."

The bartender put a glass under the tap and began to draw the beer.

Jesse sat back down, took Todd by the hand, and pulled him onto the seat next to her. "Thanks so much for coming."

"It's not a problem at all." He checked the restaurant once more, then shook his head. "Listen, I really want to apologize for the way I acted in the parking lot. I don't know what I was thinking. It was inexcusable."

"Don't worry about it," she said reassuringly. "The whole thing's forgotten."

The bartender placed Todd's beer down, then moved away.

"I was just a little overcome. We hadn't spent so much time together in a while, and I guess I'd forgotten how great it was to be with you."