That’s him?” Tom asked, joining Croft at the two-way window to the interview room.
Croft nodded. “Daniel Park. He owns a chain of hotels, one here in Sacramento.”
Daniel Park was fit and looked far younger than his seventy years. He wore a bespoke suit that had to have cost a few thousand dollars. He appeared bored and was looking at his phone.
“How did you get him here?”
“A guest filed an assault complaint against one of his employees at the hotel here in the city. It was a while back but has gone uninvestigated. We asked that he meet us to discuss it. I’ll make sure the actual complaint is followed up on. You okay? And your . . . friend, too?”
“I’m fine. Do I wish she weren’t there? Of course. But she’s capable of taking care of herself, or Molina and Raeburn wouldn’t have put her in this role.”
“Just checking. Mr. Park doesn’t have a license to do financial transactions, because of his prior record, but I found a few recommendations from satisfied customers online, so he appears to be operating without one. He served five years for insider trading and tax fraud at Terminal Island. He was there with Pastor, Waylon, and Edward McPhearson.”
“I want to get his cell phone records.”
“What do you expect to find?” Croft asked.
“Pastor’s wife said that back in the day, he’d give Waylon a onetime access code and instructions for Mr. Park, telling him what stock to buy. Waylon would make the call when he drove into town for supplies. The code was ever-changing and derived from a cipher that Pastor had developed. He’s a numbers guy.”
“You told us this in the debriefing yesterday evening. So why Park’s cell phone records?”
“Because back when Waylon would contact Park, when Marcia was still in Eden, there were no cell phones. If Park is still doing business for Pastor—”
“That’s a big ‘if,’ ” Croft interrupted.
“Agreed,” Tom allowed. “However, we know that Pastor has a cell phone now, because Amos saw him talking on it before he escaped Eden. If Park is still doing Pastor’s bidding, I think Pastor would be making his own calls. Regardless, though, someone made two transfers from Eden’s offshore accounts to pay for Pastor’s care at Sunnyside.”
“You’re right. If Park’s involved, he would have received the phone call sometime late Wednesday or early Thursday. But that’s not going to be enough for a warrant.”
“I’m hoping we can goad him into giving us enough for one. We know where Pastor is right now. So does Park. We can tell Park we have Pastor in custody and he’s claiming that Park has been giving him financial advice without a license. That’s an issue with the SEC.”
“Especially since he’s already served time. And if he has records of Pastor’s offshore activity, we can charge him with perpetrating fraud on his congregation and illegally profiting from the sale of drugs. It’s always the money, isn’t it?”
“It’s an adage for a reason,” Tom said, “but I’m more interested in tracing his phone calls. If Pastor’s called him recently, it could be a way to pinpoint Eden’s current location.”
“Even better. Okay, let’s do this.” She texted Raeburn to let him know they were getting started. “Raeburn’s going to witness,” she explained.
“Before we go in there, have you got any updates on Kowalski or his wife and kids?”
Croft sighed. “We found Angelina’s Jag. It was valeted at San Francisco airport. She boarded a flight to Paris last night—her, Tony, the two-year-old, and their dog. Big Rottweiler named Lucky. Paris police put a cruiser outside the town house she’s renting.”
“But Kowalski didn’t join her?”
“Nope. He’s still in the wind. Part of me is glad that she’s okay. Most of me thinks that she benefited financially from her husband’s crimes and should be punished.”
“I may be a little biased on that front,” Tom admitted. “My father was a murderer, but my mom didn’t know. She just wanted to get out because he was beating her—and me. She tried to tell people about the abuse, but no one believed her. So maybe, once we’ve closed this case against DJ and Pastor, we find out what Angelina knew.”
“Raeburn’s already got someone doing the digging, but you’re right. We need to focus on Pastor and DJ right now.”
Raeburn entered, quickly closing the door to keep the light out. “You two have a plan?”
“We do,” Croft said.
“Then go.”
Daniel Park looked up when they entered. “It’s about time,” he said impatiently. “I came when you asked. The least you can do is respect my time.”
“Our apologies, sir,” Croft said dutifully. “I’m working on getting an updated statement from the victim, so we’re not ready to discuss the assault.”
Park was furious. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’ll have your badge numbers. Now.”
Tom just looked at him without saying anything for long seconds until Park’s fury became discomfort. Then wariness.
“What’s this about?” Park asked.
“Benton Travis,” Tom said.
Park stiffened, fear flickering in his eyes. “I don’t know who that is.”
“It has been a while,” Tom allowed. “Way back in your Terminal Island days.”
Park scowled. “I served my time.”
Tom smiled. “And you’re still serving Benton Travis.”
“This is ridiculous. You can’t hold me here.” He started to get up.
“He says differently,” Tom said blandly, and Park blanched.
“That’s a lie. He wouldn’t.”
“How would you know?” Croft asked curiously. “You don’t remember him.”
Park lowered himself back to his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He said nothing.
“We talked to him this morning,” Tom went on. “You know, at Sunnyside Oaks. Fancy place. He’s getting good care there, by the way. In case you’re interested.”
Park had paled. “You’re lying.”
“Call him yourself and ask him,” Tom challenged, knowing Park would do no such thing. To do so would be to admit that he was still in a business relationship with a wanted man.
“Have you arrested him yet?” Park demanded.
Tom chuckled at his expression. The man had realized he was damned if he did acknowledge Pastor and damned if he didn’t, because Pastor had—allegedly—rolled on him.
“We will be arresting him,” Tom promised. “We agreed to allow him to finish his convalescence at Sunnyside Oaks before we took him into custody if he gave us names. Yours was one of those names.”
“I want a lawyer,” Park said defiantly.
Tom nodded. “That’s fine.” They had enough right now to get a warrant for his phone records and maybe even his bank records. “You’re not charged yet, though. I mean, it might be as simple as aiding and abetting a fugitive of the law. Because he was charged back in L.A.”
“That was thirty years ago,” Park said. “Statute of limitations ran out decades ago.”
“No statute of limitations on embezzlement,” Tom said. “But you knew that. You’re a money guy. When you talk to your lawyer, make sure he knows that we’ll also be looking at all of your banking transactions. If you’ve accepted any payment from Benton Travis for any money management, then you’ve violated the SEC’s rules. Considering you’re a felon and all.”
“There is a statute of limitations on that,” Park said smugly. “Ten years.”
“Not if it’s been ongoing for thirty,” Tom said. He glanced at Croft. “Is he free to go?”
“Of course. We can get to his phone and bank records, even if he flees. But if he flees, he’s in even bigger trouble.”
Park swallowed hard. “What are you offering?”
“We can’t offer anything,” Croft said. “We’re just humble federal agents. But the federal attorneys will be chatting with you, if you have time to stick around. Sit tight.” She rose, looking very badass. “Agent Hunter?”
They left Park in the interview room and found Raeburn in the viewing room, chuckling.
“ ‘We’re just humble federal agents,’ ” he repeated. “I really love watching you conduct an interview, Croft. It’s like . . . art. And you also did well, Hunter. Nice job.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tom said, pleased. “I’ll go start the warrant paperwork.”
Croft settled into one of the folding chairs. “I’ll watch Park while you do.”
Tom was halfway to the door when he got an alert on his phone. He stopped dead in his tracks. “Cameron Cook just got an e-mail from Hayley.”
He took the chair next to Croft, opening Cameron’s e-mail account. “He gave me permission to view his account,” Tom told Raeburn, who’d begun to pace.
“I know. Just read the damn e-mail.”
“ ‘Cameron, I hope you get this e-mail. We need your help, please. Hayley’s ready to go into labor any minute and she’s scared. There’s a woman here, her name is Rebecca. She’s first wife to Joshua, who’s in charge because Pastor, DJ, and the healer are all gone to a hospital. Pastor’s hurt and gets a hospital, but Hayley doesn’t even have a doctor. Rebecca’s been promised Hayley’s baby and there isn’t anything we can do about it. They’re going to steal her baby because she got pregnant ‘out of wedlock.’ If Hayley even survives. We’re in caves somewhere near Lassen, I think, because some of the rock is black and volcanic looking. It’s cold and wet and people are getting sick. We’re almost out of food. Water is scarce. I found the compound’s sat dish and solar panels. Set up the computer outside. If it rains, the computer is fucked and I’ll lose ability to communicate. Sending coordinates. Please help us.’ It’s signed, ‘Graham.’ ”
“Where are the coordinates?” Raeburn demanded.
Tom sighed. “The middle of San Francisco Bay. This happened last time. They’ve got a proxy program hiding their location. They could be anywhere.” He hit reply, speaking as he typed. “ ‘Graham, this is Special Agent Hunter of the FBI. Cameron came to me for help. I’m sending you another e-mail ASAP. Click on the link. It’ll let me control your computer. Your IP address is being hidden by a proxy program, so we can’t find you.’ ”
Using his laptop, he found the Trojan he was looking for. He’d just hit send on the second e-mail when his phone buzzed with a call from Cameron Cook.
“They e-mailed again!” Cameron was practically shouting.
“I know. I’ve been monitoring your account. The coordinates are still hidden.”
“What do we do now?”
“We wait for Graham to click on the link I sent him.” Another call came through, this time from the surveillance tech in the van outside Sunnyside. Tom’s gut twisted violently in knee-jerk fear for Liza. “I have another call coming in. I have to go, but I’ll keep you up to date.”
“Thank you,” Cameron said fervently.
Tom took the surveillance tech’s call and put it on speaker. “You’re on speaker with Agents Raeburn and Croft. What’s happening?
“You are never gonna believe this,” the tech said. “Liza took the little girl to the solarium to do a craft and who should sit down and talk to them? Pastor. He’s even calling himself Pastor. I can patch you in so you can view the feed.”
“Do it,” Raeburn snapped as the feed appeared on Tom’s laptop.
“Are you a nun?” a little girl asked.
“That’s Liza’s patient,” Tom explained. “Brooklyn.”
“I knew a nun once,” Brooklyn went on. “People called her Sister, too.”
Pastor sat in a wheelchair between the child and a middle-aged woman.
“Something like that,” the woman said.
“Who’s that?” Raeburn demanded.
“The healer,” Tom said. “Graham said that the healer went to the hospital with Pastor. Her name is Coleen. Amos said she was there when he arrived in Eden.”
“Let’s go to my office,” Raeburn said. “I want to see this on a bigger screen.”
EDEN, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, MAY 30, 11:30 A.M.
“I’m fine,” Hayley said through clenched teeth.
“No, you’re not.” Sister Rebecca had been hovering for hours. She’d thrown Tamar out of Hayley’s little cubicle, but Tamar had refused to leave, standing vigil at the curtain’s edge.
Hayley glared up at Rebecca from her pallet on the cold stone floor. “I am fine.” Which wasn’t true. She’d been having mild contractions all morning and she was scared enough without the bitch making it worse. “You are making me tense and that isn’t good for my baby.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed at the challenge. Her hand twitched like she was aching to use her fists. But of course she did not. She merely smiled cruelly. Hayley knew without a doubt that Rebecca would grab Jellybean as soon as the baby exited the womb.
From Tamar’s pained expression, she knew it, too.
“I want you to stay as still as possible,” Rebecca said. “I don’t want you to go into labor until Sister Coleen returns. I want a healthy baby, so you will do everything in your power to delay labor. That includes staying put.”
Hayley wanted to kill the bitch. She wanted a healthy baby? “If I promise to lie still, will you go? Because I’m really hating you right now.”
One side of Rebecca’s mouth lifted. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to expend your energy on hating me for much longer.”
Tamar’s eyes closed and Hayley knew she wasn’t being paranoid in taking Rebecca’s words as an obvious threat. There were so many things Hayley wanted to say to the woman. She wanted to threaten her back. But Rebecca held the power right now.
And the woman was right about one thing. She did want to delay labor for as long as possible, because Graham was so close to being able to call out for help. She hadn’t mentioned the mild contractions to him. She hadn’t wanted to break his concentration. He’d set up the last of the healer’s computer equipment this morning and was using this latest trip to empty the pots to try to send out e-mails to the cops and Cameron.
Please, Graham. Please. Be careful. Be successful.
Her heart sank when there was a furor out in the common area. She could hear Joshua’s voice. And Graham’s. Neither sounded happy.
The curtain ripped back. Joshua had Graham by the collar and was shaking him. Bruises were forming on Graham’s face and Hayley wanted to kill Joshua, too.
But all she could do was watch helplessly.
“Take him away,” Rebecca cried, waving her hands. “He reeks.”
“On purpose,” Joshua growled. “He was up there, in the rocks . . . I’m still not sure what he was doing. He had a computer. He somehow smuggled a computer into the compound.”
Rebecca’s shock was genuine. “What? How?”
“It’s not mine,” Graham shouted. “I keep telling you. It’s the healer’s. It’s Pastor’s.” Graham’s voice was carrying and already the membership was gathering beyond the curtain. Which, Hayley figured, was Graham’s intent, because Joshua was shaking him again, snarling at him to be quiet.
Graham was having none of it. There was desperation in his expression, in his voice, in the way he held his body rigid, fists clenched at his sides. He knew he was no physical match.
He was hoping for someone in the community to have the courage to stand with him.
“They hid this technology from you!” Graham continued to yell.
Joshua clamped a big hand over Graham’s nose and mouth, and Hayley struggled to get up. The bastard wasn’t trying to quiet Graham. He was trying to smother him.
“Get your fucking hands off him!” Hayley yelled. “He’s telling the truth. I saw the computer in the healer’s office at the last site. Stop! You’re going to kill him!”
“Brother Joshua.” It was Isaac, their mother’s husband. “You cannot kill this boy. If he has erred, it’s Pastor’s responsibility to decide his sentence.”
Sentence? The hope that had speared Hayley’s heart died. Isaac wasn’t going to help them. Why would he? She was sure their mother had told him all kinds of lies about them.
“Pastor left me in charge,” Joshua said in an ominous tone.
“Not to pass judgment.” Isaac stepped up to Joshua and forcibly removed his hand from Graham’s face. Then stared at him.
In challenge, Hayley realized. Isaac wasn’t doing the right thing. He was vying for control.
Still, it was an intervention, and none too soon, because Graham was wheezing and coughing. Joshua would have killed him while she watched. The rage that had been on a constant simmer since they’d been dragged to this hell erupted.
“Do none of you care that your Pastor had a computer?” Hayley yelled. “Like you’re pretending not to care that he went to a hospital when he let your loved ones die?”
The gathering crowd went silent for several long beats before the murmurs resumed. But this time they seemed to be agreeing. With that last statement, anyway.
“My baby died,” one woman said loudly, even though her husband tried to shut her up.
“My wife died,” a man said. “She was thirty-five. She might have lived if Pastor had allowed me to take her to a hospital, but he refused, no matter how I begged.”
“And we can discuss that,” Joshua said in his booming voice, trying to regain control. “For now, this boy has brought contraband into our community.”
Graham pushed himself to stand at his full height. “Dude,” he said, his voice hoarse from coughing, “I don’t even have my phone. It was the size of a deck of cards and you confiscated it. Where would I have hidden a computer, for God’s sake?” He staggered when the back of Joshua’s hand connected with his mouth. Blood dripped from Graham’s lip.
Joshua was breathing hard. “You will not take the name of our Lord God in vain.”
“Fuck you,” Hayley growled and struggled to get up.
Rebecca pushed her back down with ease. “You are a whore,” she hissed in Hayley’s ear. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll cut this baby from your body and make your brother watch.”
“Lady, you’d better take your hands off me.” Hayley was calm now.
“Or what?” Rebecca murmured.
Hayley ground her teeth impotently. Because Rebecca was right. She had no power here.
Graham wiped the blood from his mouth. “I repeat. Where would I have hidden a computer? And a set of solar panels? And a satellite dish? You’re out of your fucking minds!”
Joshua’s fist made a crunching sound as it struck Graham’s jaw. “Be silent!” he roared. “If our healer possessed these things before you arrived, how is it that no one has seen them?”
Graham went down and Hayley tried to crawl to him, only for Rebecca to yank her back.
A single voice cut through the noise. “I have.”
Again, silence reigned, the only sounds Graham’s muted groans and Joshua’s panting breaths. One of the oldest members pushed her way through to stand next to Joshua. Her nose wrinkled in distaste at Graham’s smell, but she squared her shoulders to glare up at Joshua.
Joshua was a big man and this old woman was tiny. Her name was Sister Judith and she led the quilters. Hayley had never spoken with her in the weeks that she’d been here. Joshua turned his attention to the old woman, giving her a death glare that didn’t seem to frighten her.
From the corner of Hayley’s eye, she saw Tamar skirt the crowd to get to Graham, dropping to her knees to help him. Tamar gave Hayley a reassuring nod. Graham was okay.
Hayley returned her attention to the old woman, who’d lifted her chin.
“Will you hit me, too, Joshua?” she demanded. “Your own mother?”
Oh. Wow.
“Step down, woman,” Joshua said quietly. “I don’t want to have you removed.”
“And you would, wouldn’t you?” The woman turned to her fellow Edenites. “I saw the computer in Sister Coleen’s office two moves ago. I wasn’t sure what it was. Or, I knew what it was and didn’t want to admit it to myself.”
Joshua looked like she’d slapped him. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I was being a good member of the flock. But this—” She pointed to Graham. “You would have killed him, Joshua. His sentence is Pastor’s job. He would have cast him out and let the wolves take care of him. You’re wresting control because he is not here, and your father and I didn’t raise you to do that.”
Hayley shook her head, unable to believe this. The woman wasn’t upset because Graham was right but because her son was usurping Pastor’s authority.
“This boy did not bring a computer into Eden,” the old woman continued. “Now, I’m not going to question Pastor. He must believe that we need this machine.”
“Well, then,” Graham said, still on the floor, his words slurred but his disgust still clear. “He’ll be really angry when he comes back. Mr. Genius here broke the solar panels. Nothing works without a power source.”
Oh no. Oh God. That was it, then. They were fucked. She looked to Graham, who held up one finger, then shrugged.
One e-mail? she mouthed.
Cameron, he mouthed back.
The murmurs had resumed and it seemed that the entire group took a giant step back, distancing themselves from Joshua.
“I didn’t know the solar . . . things were his,” Joshua said, sounding like a petulant child.
“I’m sure he’ll understand that,” his mother said. “But he won’t if you usurp his authority. Put the boy in the box for now, Joshua. Get him out of your sight and cool your mind. Then, once Pastor returns, he can choose the boy’s fate.”
“Cast out,” the group said, almost as one.
Hayley shuddered, because it was damn eerie. And then she gasped when the first real contraction gripped her, stealing her breath with its strength. Shit.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Rebecca spat. “She’s gone into labor. Go. Everyone go!”
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, MAY 30, 1:30 P.M.
I need to get out of here. DJ had been pacing in Coleen’s bedroom for hours, watching the news with mounting dread. The Feds now had his photo on every network, and for a brief time he’d been trending on Twitter. They even knew he was now bald.
At least they didn’t know he was here. They didn’t know anything about this place. So he was safe. For now.
But Gideon and Mercy had won. For now.
He’d retreat. For now. But he wasn’t leaving here without Pastor—or at least Pastor’s cash. He’d find his sunny island and pay someone else to take care of Gideon and Mercy. It wouldn’t be as satisfying as putting a bullet in their heads himself, but the job would get done.
He consolidated the bags he’d brought with him, adding the fake license plates and magnetic signs to the weapons bag. The laptop didn’t fit, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to ditch a laptop. He’d bought a model with a removable hard drive for just this reason. He popped the drive and tossed it into the duffel.
He’d turned for the door when it opened, and Coleen entered the room. She closed the door behind her and leaned on it. And said nothing, simply watching him.
New dread coiled in DJ’s gut. “Where is he?”
“Back in the solarium after his nap.”
“What did he do while he was there?”
“He met a little girl earlier, and they chatted. He wanted to feel the sun on his face, so I took him back and left him with his nurse. I wanted to talk to you.”
“What did they chat about? And who’s with him now?”
“They chatted about all kinds of things. His kids, you know, his real kids. Bo and Bernie.”
“That doesn’t hurt me like you think it does,” DJ said. “I never wanted to be his kid.”
“He told the child his name was Ben.”
DJ stared. “He what? Has he gone senile?”
“The nurse said it’s probably an aftereffect of the anesthesia. That sometimes people get confused. I looked it up on the computer there—” She pointed to the computer the facility provided for the suite. “And it’s true. But I also looked up all kinds of other things.”
“Like what?”
“Like the news. Lots of stuff has happened in thirty years, you know? I kept up with medical news on the computer you gave me, but it seems most of the Internet wasn’t available. I wonder why that is.”
Because DJ had blocked their access. “Stop talking unless you have something to say.”
Coleen tilted her head. “Mercy Callahan.”
Fuck. “I don’t know that name.”
Coleen smiled. “Well, she went by Mercy Burton back then. She looks just like her mother. It’s uncanny. Oh, and she’s alive. Which you knew because you’ve been trying to kill her.”
“I killed her thirteen years ago. I told you that.”
“Either you were mistaken or you lied. Either way, you’re trying to kill her now. And not doing such a good job of it.”
He took a step closer, annoyed when she didn’t flinch. “And how do you know this?”
“Because I saw a report this morning, before I took Pastor to the solarium. It was an interview with a lady whose husband’s body was found in a freezer yesterday by the FBI. Who say you’re the lead suspect. But you knew that, too.”
DJ took another step closer. “That has nothing to do with Mercy Callahan.”
“That’s not what the man’s widow is saying. She said that the family down the street is responsible. That they took in Mercy Callahan and Gideon Reynolds. Their photos popped up on the screen, and imagine my surprise. I thought Gideon was dead, too.”
So had I. Thanks, Dad.
“Seems like your father also lied,” Coleen said. “I wonder what Gideon’s mother had over men. I mean, she was pretty, but not that pretty. But she had Amos and Ephraim and Waylon wrapped around her finger. And you, too, until you actually killed her.”
“She did not have me wrapped around her finger,” DJ spat. “I wanted to kill her when I let her stow away in my truck.”
“Both Mercy and her mother were supposed to die then?”
At least Coleen saw the truth. “Yes. I wanted them to think they were getting away.”
“So you took them to civilization, let them think they were getting their freedom, and then you killed them. Or tried to.”
“I thought Mercy was dead. I didn’t know until last month that she wasn’t. Gideon either.”
“I see.”
He smiled tightly. “Good. Glad we had this chat.”
“Well, maybe.”
Coleen was playing him somehow. “Are you going to tell Pastor?” he asked.
She shook her head. “If I were going to tell him, I’d have done it already.”
She was lying. He could see it in her eyes. He moved faster than she’d been expecting, trapping her against the door, pressing his forearm into her throat.
“What are you doing, Sister Coleen?” he asked in a low hiss.
“Nothing,” Coleen rasped. “Just filling in the blanks. You’re hurting me, DJ.”
He used his free hand to pat her down, chuckling when he found the tablet concealed down the back of her shirt. It was Sunnyside’s tablet and she’d figured out how to make it record audio. He hit the end button and dropped the tablet, crushing it with his boot.
Her eyes widening, she clawed at his arm as she fought to breathe.
“You were getting me to confess so that you could play it for Pastor.” He smiled down at her, energized by her fear. “You thought you were smarter than me? You’re just a woman.”
He grabbed the chain around her throat and twisted hard, cutting off her air supply as he dragged her to the bed. He shoved her down and grabbed a pillow. Leaning close, he whispered, “This is how Waylon died. Just so you know.”
He pressed the pillow to her face, putting all of his weight on it. She struggled. And then she was quiet. He remained another few minutes. Just to be sure.
Then he took her pulse, just to be very sure. She was dead. He took off her shoes and set them aside, then tucked her into bed, like she’d taken a nap.
He needed to get Pastor out of this place and back to Eden. Or at least partway to Eden. As far as it took to get him to cough up the codes. He’d have to steal a car to get out of the lot. And then he’d return to the Explorer he’d set aside. That would get him back up into the mountains.
Putting on the surgical mask, he slipped from the suite carrying his duffel. He met Nurse Innes on his way to the employee entrance.
“I’m glad you’re leaving. I didn’t want to have you escorted out.”
Bitch. “My mother has everything covered. I’ll call for an Uber,” he lied, “but I want to stop and say goodbye to the old man on my way out.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
He gritted his teeth. “You really want me out of here, don’t you?”
Her smile was thin. “You’ve created quite a mess for yourself, Mr. Belmont. You are a security risk. If the authorities find you here, you’ll put this facility in a very bad spot.” They stopped at a door marked SOLARIUM. “Your father is inside. There, chatting with the nursing assistant.”
DJ peered through the window. “That’s not the assistant he was assigned.” The nurse sitting nearby was the same, but not the assistant.
“She works in pediatrics. He met her this morning when she brought her patient to the solarium, and he demanded that she be assigned to him. We do our best to meet his needs.”
There was something about the nursing assistant that bothered him. She was familiar. And then she turned her head and he saw her hot pink cat-eye glasses with sparkling rhinestones.
He’d seen those glasses before—in the scope of his rifle on that rooftop. She’d been with Mercy in the eye doctor’s office. She’d blocked his shot.
She’d fucked everything up. And then the real truth descended.
She was with the FBI.
Fucking hell. He remembered Nurse Gaynor, the little bugs she’d been planting. Had she been hired by Kowalski or had she been with the FBI, too?
Either way, the Feds knew that he was here. They were probably waiting for him outside. Why hadn’t they stormed the place? What were they waiting for?
Me. They’re waiting for me. He’d snuck in via the ambulance the night before, so they didn’t know. But they’d know now, because this woman was likely wired like Nurse Gaynor had been.
He needed to get out of here. But in a way they wouldn’t suspect.
The ambulance they’d used last night would be perfect. Nobody would stop him from leaving, and any Fed waiting outside would assume he was legit.
All of this thinking took about ten seconds, and when he glanced back at Innes, she looked wryly amused.
“Miss Barkley is quite pretty,” she said. “I think your father was charmed.”
“How long has she been here?” he asked, keeping his tone casual.
He didn’t succeed, because the nurse’s eyes narrowed. “Today is her first day. Why?”
Because you are a fucking idiot and I don’t trust you. “Introduce me,” he said smoothly. “Maybe I’d like to be charmed, too.”
Still wary, Innes opened the door, and DJ followed her into the bright room. It was hot, all the glass intensifying what was going to be a ninety-eight-degree day.
“Mr. Alcalde, excuse me for interrupting you,” Innes said with forced cheer. “You’ve had a long outing today. It’s time for you to return to your room. But before you do, your son came by. He says he’s going on a trip and he wanted to say goodbye.” She gave DJ a pointed look. “Say goodbye, Mr. Belmont.”
Pastor stiffened in his wheelchair. “Why are you here?” he asked, his anger barely veiled.
As for the nursing assistant, she froze for a moment, and then her eyes flashed with such a vicious rage that he might have been cowed had she been a man. He’d definitely be killing her soon. But Innes first. Now he turned to the nurse and said, “I’ll be going, but can I have a word with you first? Privately?”
Miss Barkley went still, eerily so. Not frozen, like before, but as if she were preparing. For what, he wasn’t certain. Maybe to attack. Maybe to flee.
Nurse Innes picked up on the tension and nodded slowly. “Please stay here, Miss Barkley.”
The Fed didn’t blink. She didn’t answer, either.
Nurse Innes led him to the door through which they’d come, into the hall and then into a supply closet. “What is wrong with Miss Barkley?”
He didn’t answer her, just put down his duffel, drew his silenced gun and shot her in the head. When she fell, he shot her a second time.
Grabbing the duffel, he left the closet in time to see Miss Barkley halfway down the hall. He caught up to her and pressed the barrel of his gun to her back. “If you run, I’ll kill you,” he murmured. “Then I’ll go into that solarium and kill every single patient. Not all of them are criminals. A couple of them are kids. You okay with them dying, too?”
She was ramrod stiff. “What do you want?”
He patted her down, finding no wires. Which made no sense. They’d have her wired somehow. Keeping the gun firmly at her back, he checked out her front. She flashed him a hate-filled glare, turning her body toward him in an awkwardly stiff way.
Her pendant caught the light and he abruptly realized that was where she’d hidden the camera, so he yanked it from her throat. She stiffened, but made no other noise. And because her glasses reminded him of his ruined shot at Mercy, he grabbed those and broke them in two.
DJ tossed the necklace and the glasses into a trash can, then answered her question. “I want you to come back to the solarium with me and push Pastor’s wheelchair.”
“And then?”
“Seconds are ticking, Miss Barkley. Or should I say Agent Barkley? Do as I say or I will kill everyone in that room and then blow up this whole building, including the little kids.”
Her jaw tightened, but she nodded and turned back to the solarium.
As soon as they entered the room, he saw that Pastor was glaring. “What is the meaning of this? What are you doing here?”
DJ shoved his gun harder into Miss Barkley’s back, hiding the movement with his duffel bag. “Move,” he murmured. “And be casual. If anyone notices, everyone here is dead.”
She obeyed, gripping the handles of the wheelchair so tightly that her knuckles whitened as she pushed Pastor into the hall.
“DJ!” Pastor snapped. “What is the meaning of this?”
“We’re going for a ride, Pastor,” DJ said. “The Feds have surrounded this place.”
Pastor gasped. “Hurry.”
Miss Barkley was a cool customer, DJ thought. She hadn’t panicked. Wasn’t crying. She was, in fact, acting like a real nurse.
“He shouldn’t leave the facility,” she said. “He’s not ready medically.”
“You can come with us and take care of me,” Pastor said. “It’ll be okay.”
DJ pushed the woman to walk faster and, again, she obeyed. Pastor really was going senile. He hadn’t put together that his nurse was one of those Feds.
DJ grabbed Barkley’s badge and buzzed them out. Perfect. The ambulance was parked by the back door under an awning that shielded it from the rest of the lot. DJ opened the passenger door, surprised to see someone in the driver’s seat.
“What the—” was all the man had time to get out before he slumped, a bullet in his head.
“Open the back,” DJ told Miss Barkley. “Then get the stretcher.”
She obeyed again, her muscles flexing under the strain. Keeping the gun on her, DJ helped Pastor onto the stretcher. “In you go.”
The nursing assistant pushed the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.
“Sit tight, Pastor. I’m getting us out of here.” DJ put his duffel in with Pastor, reached into the bag, and retrieved a zip tie. He used it to bind the woman’s wrists together in front of her, then shoved her toward the passenger seat. “Get in. You’re my insurance.”
She lifted her chin. “No. I won’t go.”
He held up his phone. “You remember the explosion at the radio station yesterday? That was only a few little sticks. I planted a bomb in there with four of the big sticks.” Which was a lie, but she didn’t know that. “Filled the canister with nails and broken glass. It’ll blow a hole in the wall and kill anyone in a forty-foot radius. And if they aren’t blown to bits, they’ll be human pincushions. You want that? All I need to do to detonate is make one phone call.”
She swallowed hard and climbed into the ambulance.
He yanked the driver out, taking the man’s badge before tossing his body to the ground. He got behind the wheel, relieved to see the keys in the ignition. He started the vehicle and headed toward the ambulance entrance, on the opposite side from the employee and family entrance.
Keeping his face averted from the security camera, he’d rolled down his window to slide the driver’s badge through the card reader when he heard the roar of an engine. His side mirror showed an approaching SUV with heavily tinted windows.
Except for the driver’s window, which was open, a gun visible. “Stop! Police!”
“Fucking hell,” DJ growled. The gate was opening slowly, but he wasn’t going to make it.
And then the SUV was T-boned by a dark sedan. The sedan hit the SUV on the back fender, forcing it into the fence. Saltrick, the security chief, got out, his gun drawn and pointed at the driver of the SUV.
Well, shit. Saltrick didn’t know DJ was stealing the ambulance, intent instead on stopping the cop. Things are going my way.
The gate in front of DJ opened and he drove out. Yes.
Barkley was staring in her side mirror in annoyed frustration.
DJ smiled. “Not your day, huh?” She didn’t respond and that annoyed him. “Aren’t you going to say that I’m never getting away with that?”
She turned her head to stare at him with contempt.
No worry. He’d slap that look off her face at the first opportunity.
They’d gotten away. For now.
