AWOL with the Operative (24 page)

A moment later she found herself blending in with the traffic on a freeway that seemed to be headed in a northerly direction. She was used to driving in big-city traffic in St. Louis. But Chicago traffic was murder. It needed all her concentration.

Maybe that’s why it took her a while to notice it behind them in the rearview mirror. A sporty, silver Mustang. Not just any silver Mustang, either. This one had a broken headlamp. The left one.

Sam! It had to be Sam back there!

She remembered him complaining about the headlight when the taxi had dropped them off in front of his building yesterday. Remembered him grumbling, “Probably kids playing ball again in the street when they’ve got a park just a half block over.”

It couldn’t be anything but Sam’s silver Mustang. How long had he been following them? As far back as somewhere in that maze of streets before the freeway? If so, she hadn’t been aware of him. Not when she’d been so worried, wondering if she would have any opportunity to get away from her captor before they reached their destination. Because once they got there, there would be no chance for an escape.

But now there was Sam speeding to her rescue on a—well, with a silver charger under him, if not a white one. Providing, that is, he could keep them in sight. And that was a problem. The traffic was thickening, with other vehicles squeezing between the Mustang and the SUV.

There were tense moments when she lost sight of the Mustang in her rearview mirror. To her relief, it always appeared again, either directly behind them or a few car lengths back in one of the other lanes.

But how long could Sam continue to follow the SUV before it disappeared on him altogether? Unless…

Easing her pressure on the accelerator, Eve slowed the SUV, letting it drop back.

“What are you doing?” her red-haired captor demanded.

Her effort was a mistake. He’d been too busy holding the gun on her, watching her every move, to check the traffic behind them. But if she made him suspicious…

“Just trying not to hit the car in front of me.”

“Get over to the right, and you won’t. And keep your speed up.”

She obeyed him while searching her mind for some other way to help Sam. Her captor gave it to her when they’d traveled another half mile or so up the highway.

“We’re going to leave the freeway on the exit after the next one. Get over to the outside lane so you’re ready for it.”

Eve did as she was instructed. Only it wasn’t the second exit that she made her target. It was the first one.

“Not here!” her captor screamed at her when she aimed the SUV down the off-ramp. “The next one! I told you the next one!”

“Stop shouting at me. You’re confusing me.”

“Get us back on the freeway.
Now.
”

Had her ruse worked? She flashed a glance in the rearview mirror. There was no sign of Sam. All she could do now was attempt another delay. Hope he would catch up to them.

“Where are you going? This isn’t the way to the on-ramp!”

“The way you keep yelling at me, why wouldn’t I miss it? I’ll have to find a place to turn around.”

“Then you’d better find it, and find it fast!”

What she found after they’d traveled another block along the street was a narrow alley. One that was blocked less than halfway along its length by a large trash receptacle. Eve didn’t hesitate to swing into it.

“You stupid bitch! You’ve got us into a dead end with nowhere to turn! Back out!”

Too late for that. The Mustang arrived, sliding into the alley behind them. And this time the man at her side was fully aware of it.

Eve felt the barrel of the pistol jammed into her side.

“Get out,” he commanded her. “And don’t try to make a run for it, unless you want a bullet in your back.”

With trembling hands, she unbuckled her seat belt, opened the door and exited the SUV. The pistol remained in her side as he scooted under the wheel directly behind her.

Sam was out of his car, not daring to approach them. Watching them carefully as her captor shifted the gun in his hand to the back of her head, wrapped his other arm tightly around her waist and backed them up against the trash receptacle.

“I’ll shoot her, Sam, if you don’t let us out of here. I swear I will.”

His voice low and even, but with steel behind every word, Sam answered him with a confident “No, you won’t. It’s over, Bud. You’re finished. Be smart and let her go. You can cut a deal if you cooperate. Probably spend a few years behind bars, maybe shorten your sentence with good behavior.”

“You’re forgetting who’s holding the gun here.”

“Or,” Sam continued, as if he hadn’t heard the other man, “you can make the kind of mistake that will cost you a lifetime in prison.”

“Not if I kill both of you and leave you in this alley. No witnesses, Sam.”

“But you won’t do that. Hear those sirens, Bud? See, when I came chasing down off that ramp it was at top speed. Made sure a police cruiser saw that, too. The cops think they’re after me, but when they get here and it’s all sorted out, it’s you they’ll be hauling off in handcuffs.”

Sam wasn’t bluffing. The sirens were louder now, heralding their approach. There was a taut silence of indecision in the alley itself. It probably lasted for only seconds, but seemed much longer than that to Eve before she felt the pistol swing away from her, heard it clatter on the pavement, experienced the relief of her captor releasing her.

She was conscious by then of the flashing blue and red lights of the cruiser and its backup in the mouth of the alley, the banging of car doors. Only dimly so, however, since her awareness was more fully occupied with an effort to keep herself from collapsing now that she no longer had the support, welcome or not, of the man called Bud.

Her legs must have been visibly sagging, because Sam was suddenly there, his arms wrapping around her. His strong, protective embrace felt wonderful, even though Eve knew this could be the last time she would experience it.

Chapter 14

E
ve was amazed at the speed and efficiency of the FBI when it swung into action, as it did within minutes of their arrival at the Chicago division.

Eve was led to an office by one of the special agents who introduced herself as Angela Carter. Although the woman, who looked more like a runway model than an agent, was sympathetic, she wanted every detail, rapidly taking each of them down on a computer.

The interview was so lengthy and exacting that Eve had no time to wonder what had become of Sam. Maybe he was relating his own version of today’s events in another area, most likely having reported all the rest earlier to his squad supervisor.

When they were finished, Agent Carter printed out the interview, gave it to Eve to read and asked her to sign it.

“Our supervisory special agent asked to see you when we were done,” the woman told her. “If you’ll come this way…”

Eve was led across the common area to another office where she was introduced to Frank Kowsloski, who rose from his desk and came forward to shake her hand.

“On behalf of the FBI, Miss Warren, I want to express my gratitude for your help. Will you take a chair, please? I think you’re entitled to know what’s been happening since Special Agent McDonough handed you over to Special Agent Carter.”

Sam was there in the office, too, half seated, half leaning on a low window ledge, his arms folded across his chest. There was nothing on his chiseled face that told her what he might be thinking or feeling. All he said to her was, “You okay, Eve?”

She nodded and seated herself in one of the chairs, prepared to listen to the squad supervisor, who had returned to his desk.

In the half hour that followed, while aware of Sam’s steady gaze on her, Eve heard more than she probably needed or wanted to know.

Information like how the flash drive and what it contained, together with Bud Lowry’s full confession and willingness to testify at Victor DeMarco’s trial, had convinced the federal prosecutor that the mobster would serve a long stretch in prison.

Also, how, the bureau had been in contact with Canadian authorities, who were ready to handle everything at that end regarding the bodies of DeMarco’s two thugs. The FBI was promising to reimburse the owners of the cabin, who turned out to be a pair of brothers from Winnipeg, for any loss or damage.

She was even told Bud Lowry’s motive for turning informant. It was a simple, all-too-common one. Lowry had a girlfriend he was wild about. A woman who had expensive tastes. Far too expensive to support on an agent’s salary. Taking huge sums from DeMarco in exchange for information had been the result.

None of it really interested Eve. The only question she had for the squad supervisor was a concerned “What about Ken Redfeather, our pilot?”

“His remains will be located and returned to his family,” she was assured.

“What happens to me now?”

“There’ll be a warrant for Victor DeMarco’s arrest, although I’m afraid it’s too late in the day for a judge to issue it. Which is why I’m placing you overnight in a downtown hotel under the protection of Agents McDonough and Carter. I won’t consider you safe, Miss Warren, until both DeMarco and his lawyer are made fully aware of the evidence we have that no longer depends on you in any way.”

Eve was too exhausted by then to either question or object to Frank Kowsloski’s decision. Nor, once they were settled in that hotel room, was there any opportunity for a private conversation with Sam. Not with the constant presence of Special Agent Carter.

Had Sam wanted it this way? She didn’t know.

When she turned in early for the night, it was with a sorrowful acceptance of everything she wanted and feared she wouldn’t get.

Why did I have to go and fall in love with you, Sam McDonough?

Frank Kowsloski appeared in the hotel room just after noon the next day to cheerfully tell her, “You’re free to go, Miss Warren. Victor DeMarco has been arrested and charged. He won’t be a threat to you any more.”

“Will you need me to testify at his trial?”

“I don’t see that as necessary, not with all the evidence we have. But we can always contact you later on, if it turns out you’re needed. Meanwhile, I’m sure Agent McDonough here will be happy to take you where you want to go.”

Eve wasn’t so sure about that. The mood between Sam and her had become awkward. He didn’t hesitate to take charge, though, when they left the hotel. “We’ll go back to my apartment, maybe grab some lunch on the way.”

He had already recovered her shoulder bag and its contents last night, bringing them to her in the hotel after stopping by Union Station to retrieve their coats. He’d also stopped by a cash machine to withdraw some funds. Eve had no reason to return to Sam’s apartment. There was nothing there for her now.

There never had been, she thought sadly.

Was it her imagination that Sam seemed relieved when she declined his suggestion?

“Where then?” he asked her.

“Since you’re offering, I’d appreciate it if you drove me to Charlie’s condo.”

Though he didn’t ask her why, the look on his face expressed surprise.

She answered his curiosity with a casual “I want to pick up the Gretel salt shaker. Alan Peterman could see no objection to my taking it away from the condo when I phoned him last night while you were running your errands. It’s all I want from the place.”

“Planning on reuniting it with your Hansel?”

Eve nodded. “Sappy sentiment, I suppose, but I’d like something of Charlie’s that has a happy association for me.”

They didn’t talk on the drive north. The atmosphere between them was still strained. Sam dropped her off at the entrance to Charlie’s building.

“No parking on the street here,” he said. “I’ll have to find a lot or a parking garage. You can wait for me in the lobby.”

“That might take too long. I have the key. I can go up and let myself in.”

Before he could object, she was out of the Mustang and on her way to the elevators. By the time he rejoined her, she was back in the lobby, bearing the Gretel.

“Lunch now?” he asked her.

Eve drew a deep breath and exhaled it slowly in an effort to find the courage she suddenly knew she needed. It was time, wasn’t it? Time to confront him with what he probably didn’t want to hear but what she was determined to communicate before they parted. That much she deserved.

“I don’t want to go to lunch. I don’t want to go anywhere with you, Sam. There’s just no point to it.”

He frowned, looking puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“I think you already know. I think you’ve known for a long time. You just don’t want to admit it.”

He stared at her, either genuinely confused or pretending to be. “You’re not making sense. And this is one time those eyebrows of yours…well, they aren’t telling me anything.”

“Us, Sam. You and me. You have to have realized I’m in love with you. And if you imagine that was easy for me to say, it wasn’t.”

“Eve—”

“No, just hear me out, because I feel maybe you could be in love with me. But you won’t let yourself admit that, either, will you? After Lily, you’re afraid of any commitment.”