Burning Proof (25 page)

LUKE SAW ABBY WITH WOODY
in front of the restaurant and his heart raced. His arrival at the hotel following his meeting with Lucy Harper’s daughter must have coincided with their finishing breakfast. They stood at the edge of the parking lot between the restaurant and the hotel. Though he had not read what Harper had given him, he felt in his soul that it would be important to Abby, that it would help her, help both of them clarify the horrific losses in their past. He hurried toward them. When Woody faced him, the expression on his face made Luke slow. When his gaze came to Abby and he saw the frown, the body language tight and angry, he almost stopped.

“I just told Abby where you were
 
—all of it,” Woody said as Luke reached them, and the air bled out of Luke’s sails.

“How could you?” Abby asked.

“I
 
—” He looked from Abby to Woody, suddenly at a loss.

Abby turned to Woody, her tone softer as she said, “It’s okay. I know that you want to go see about the dog.”

Woody looked unsure and, for the first time since Luke had known him, old and tired. Luke tossed him the car keys, and
Woody took off for the car, leaving Luke to face Abby. Luke squared up, struggling for the right words.

“What do you mean this person Lucy Harper might have seen my dad after the fire?” She stared at Luke, and he ached at the pain he saw in her eyes. Abby’s anger seemed to burn through him. “How could you keep this from me?” she asked. “The two of you just said in plain English that you don’t trust me.” Her hurt, smoldering green eyes held him in place.

“That’s not it at all
 
—”

“So what’s your excuse?”

“Her name was in the papers we got from Asa’s safe
 
—”

“You’ve known about her for weeks and you never told me?”

Luke felt the wind pushing him, and Abby kept moving hair out of her face.

“We didn’t know if it was a legitimate lead. We
 
—I wanted to be sure we had something solid before I told you.”

He could see the pain of perceived betrayal all over her face, and it pierced him to the center of his soul.

“You didn’t consider that I should know this bit of information pertaining to the murders of my parents?”

“It’s not like that. It’s just that you were having a tough time with the shooting. Lucy Harper may have been a wild-goose chase. We didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“You didn’t want me to lose my mind. You didn’t want me to wind up the crazy person.”

“Abby, that wasn’t it at all. I’m sorry you see it that way.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too.” She turned to leave.

“Here, please take this.” He pulled what Lucy had given him out of his pocket. “I haven’t read it. But she thought it was something your father wrote.”

Abby looked at him. For the first time since he’d met her, Luke didn’t like what he saw in her beautiful eyes. Mistrust, anger, and hurt. Luke felt his heart break apart in his chest.

She took the envelope from him.

“I’m really sorry. I
 
—”

Just then a car squealed into the lot. By reflex Luke put a hand on Abby’s elbow to move her out of the way.

Then Luke recognized Molly Cavanaugh behind the wheel.

“Detective Hart! Detective Hart!” The distraught girl leaned out the driver’s window.

“What is it?” Abby started toward her and Luke stepped up as well.

“It’s Callie; she’s been kidnapped. My sister
 
—she’s gone.”

The stricken look on the girl’s face hit Luke like a sledgehammer.

“It’s Barone,” he said, and both women turned toward him.

“The computer guy?” Molly asked, going stone still.

“Yes. I was going to tell you, warn you. We sent the information to the county sheriff. I think he’s the rapist. Do you know where he lives?”

A look of horror crossed Molly’s face. “You mean . . .” Her voice trailed off, and Luke feared he’d hit her too hard, that she’d retreat back into her PTSD.

They had to find Barone.

“WHERE IS THIS GUY?
” Quinn looked at his watch. “Sign says eight, and he told me nine. He was supposed to be here half an hour ago.” He turned to Kelsey. “Where does he live? Did Jerry send you that information?”

They’d been sitting in front of the computer shop since quarter to nine. Smug and pleased with himself, Quinn had been talkative this morning and told her over breakfast that he needed some electronics. He had the C-4 to make the bomb, but he needed something to set it off and explained that he’d talked to the guy the night before and been promised the supplies.

Kelsey knew enough about bombs to know he could probably find something at the Home Depot, but for some reason he didn’t want to go there. A sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach told her why. He planned to kill the computer guy and eliminate any possible connection being made to him. Now he wanted to go to the guy’s house, which she was fairly certain would be ugly, but she’d roll with it.

“I’ve got it on my phone,” Kelsey said as she found the text
message. She was happy to give him the address. She wanted to move this thing forward and wondered if she’d be able to save herself when Quinn made his move on her. She plugged the address into the GPS.

“I’ll get this dude out of bed and into the shop, where he belongs,” Quinn muttered as he left the lot and followed the directions on the screen.

Kelsey kept her hand on her gun, feeling surprisingly calm. Her only hope was that she wouldn’t make anything easy for the big oaf, Quinn.

The drive to the computer guy’s house didn’t take very long. He lived at the top of a hill. The street ended with a jog to the left but nothing off to the right and nothing behind. The house had an unobstructed view of the whole valley, but the dead-end, private nature of the location probably appealed to Quinn.

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he pulled into the driveway. He left the car running and strode to the front door.

Still not certain what he was up to, Kelsey kept an eye on him but took her hand off her gun. The hand was cramping because of the tight grip she had on the butt of her weapon. She was looking down at her hand when a huge explosion rent the air, and debris rained down on the car.

Kelsey was thrown back against the passenger seat, and the passenger window spiderwebbed as it shattered, but the safety glass stayed in place. A loud thud sounded, and the car shook when something large hit the front fender and then slid off.

Ears ringing, in shock and not really processing what had just happened, Kelsey tried to open her car door, but it
wouldn’t open. She shoved hard and the obstruction moved. She slipped out of the car.

In horror she looked down and realized the obstruction
 
—the object that had hit the car
 
—was Quinn’s bloody body.

“KIDNAPPED?
” Abby forgot her anger with Luke and Woody and stared at Molly.

“Yes, she didn’t show up for work.” The girl’s wide, frightened eyes went back and forth from Luke to Abby. “They found her backpack in the street. You really think he’s got her?”

“I do,” Luke said.

Abby saw the certainty in his face and remembered all the circumstantial evidence Woody had shared with her. Yeah, he was probably right, and she hated to think of what that might mean for Callie.

“We need to go by his shop. Do you know where he lives if he’s not there?”

Molly nodded. “Everybody does. It’s not far from the shop. I’ll show you.” She opened the car door and slid out, standing on her good leg. Luke moved close to steady her.

“No, you need to call the police.”

“They won’t believe me. Everybody loves the computer guy. Please, if he has her, every minute counts.”

Abby looked from Luke to the girl.

“She’s right,” Luke said. “We’re wasting time. Woody has the car.”

“Then let’s go in mine.” Abby gripped Molly by the shoulders. “Just tell us where he lives. I’m not putting you in danger.”

“I’ll get back in my car and follow you if you don’t let me come. I can show you where he lives. I’m not staying out of this to sit and wait.” There was a stubborn set to her jaw.

Shaking her head in frustration, Abby hit her key fob to unlock the car doors, not wanting to take Molly but realizing what a waste of time it was to argue.

“We need to hurry. Direct me to the shop, and if he’s not there, his house.” Luke helped Molly into the backseat. Abby noted she put some weight on her casted leg.

“I’ll call the locals and tell them why I’m so sure he’s the bad guy,” Luke said as they climbed into Abby’s car. “I’ll persuade them to meet us there.”

“I pray that you can make them understand,” Abby said as she started the car and burned rubber out of the lot.

Kelsey shifted into survival mode immediately. Not bothering to waste time going around the car, she slid back into the passenger seat, continuing over to the driver’s seat. Throwing the car in gear, she pressed the gas and reversed out of the driveway, then shoved the lever into drive and lurched away, not truly comprehending what just happened but knowing she should not be here when the local authorities arrived.

She took the left road jog and drove, not even sure of where she was going. After descending and making several turns,
feeling safe in a residential area, she stopped and pulled to the curb, heart pounding.

What did she and Quinn step into?

There was no way to know. As Kelsey inventoried her situation, she realized Quinn’s body might present quite a problem for the boss, the “chief.” He’d be identified quickly, and there would be questions
 
—lots of them, no doubt. The boss’s wrath would rain down for certain. She realized at that moment that she no longer cared.

She typed the freeway into the GPS, and directions popped up. The sooner she got out of Tehachapi, the better. As she followed the line on the screen, she heard sirens in the distance, behind her, no doubt headed to the computer guy’s house.

Accelerating, she let her mind drift to what story she would tell the rental car company about the broken window and the dent and the blood from Quinn.

BARONE JUMPED
when he heard the front door booby trap go off, then cursed.

They’re early.

He wasn’t ready yet.

In his mind’s eye he saw an army of SWAT team officers scratching their heads, trying to figure out how to get to the smartest guy they’d ever encountered. He’d wanted to wire the entire house to blow and kill the whole stupid macho team. He was only halfway done.

But he’d killed Bart too soon. Gil could do a lot of things and do them well, but he was slowed by the inability to use his legs. He’d failed to realize just how much he’d come to count on the guy. Now someone was here; someone had tripped that first explosive setup. The only thing that calmed him was knowing they couldn’t get to him in the man cave from the house. He was still in control. He’d confront them the way he wanted to confront them.

He stopped what he was doing and tried to think. There was no way he’d have the house wired in time. He had no idea how
many people were at his front door, and in any event, the blast was sure to bring the troops, the negotiators. Barone had no intention of negotiating. He put down the tools he was working with and rolled to where he could see his outside monitor feed. All he saw was snow and he figured they’d cut the feed. Either that or the blast had disabled it.

No matter,
he thought.
I’ll just go with plan B.
He slid into a thick bulletproof vest and grabbed his assault rifle. The heavy bag of ammo clips he placed on his lap, not certain he’d be able to use them all but planning to give it a try. He rolled into the garage, toward the door control. He could hear the girl whimpering and struggling in the van; he hadn’t had time to pull her out yet.

For a second he paused at the van, wondering if he should just put a bullet in her head.

Nah, he didn’t want to take the time. He was about to go out in a big way, and it was imperative that he prove to everyone that he was at the top of the food chain.

Stopping at the door button, he slapped a clip into the rifle and then chambered a round. He was ready to rock and roll and take as many with him as possible. He punched the button and prepared to fire as soon as the door was up high enough.

MOLLY WAS RIGHT.
As Abby listened to Luke try to explain to the local police why he was certain Gil Barone had Callie, she could tell they were skeptical.

“Turn here.” Molly pointed. “He lives at the very top of this street.”

Though she knew there was no guarantee Barone was headed home
 
—after all, he’d tried to dump Molly in the desert
 
—Abby followed her instructions because there was no other option at the moment.

Luke disconnected from the police, letting out an exasperated breath. “They’re sending someone to the shop, even though I told them that we just drove by and he’s not there.”

She glanced at Luke and saw the frustration on his features. “He does all their computer work; we must be wrong,” he said, throwing up his hands.

“They eat lunch with the guy. Callie has seen every cop in town with him.” Molly’s voice was tight, grim.

As they climbed the hill, Abby prayed Callie was okay, that
they weren’t too late. Just then she heard a loud boom and saw a puff of smoke in the distance. She slammed on the brakes.

“What was that?”

“Gunshots?” Molly asked.

“Sounded like a bomb, an explosion,” Luke said.

More smoke billowed ahead. Abby turned to Molly. “That’s his house there?”

“At the very top. It’s the last house on the street. What if it’s on fire and Callie’s in there?”

Abby stepped on it and continued up the hill. From the corner of her eye she saw a car, or the tail end of a car, disappear to the left, but she wasted no time looking after it. Her attention was on the house at the end of the street.

“That’s it,” Molly said as a large single-story ranch came into view.

The driveway split; to the left was the garage and to the right the front entryway, which appeared to be smoldering. There was also a brick retaining wall about four feet high off to the left, winding around the front of the house, that Abby noted would provide decent cover. That thought made her question the wisdom of bringing Molly along. But that wasn’t what made Abby stop the car. What made her stop was the body she saw in the driveway.

“Luke . . .”

“I see it.” He turned to Molly. “Get down in the backseat, call 911, and tell them what you’ve seen and heard.”

She nodded. “Callie?”

“We’ll check,” Abby said. “I promise. But call; we need the troops here. Something bad is going down.”

Molly slid down on the floor and pulled out her phone.

Abby nodded to Luke and they both got out of the car.

She’d brought her .45 on this trip and removed it from the door panel. Luke was unarmed, and Abby prayed that whatever had happened here was already over.

She’d stopped the car back about thirty feet from the body. She and Luke approached it cautiously.

“Is this Barone?” she asked Luke.

He shook his head. “Never seen him before.”

The man was obviously dead. His face was a bloody mess, and the waxy color of his skin told Abby that the heart was no longer pumping. Abby was tempted to check for ID when she heard a rumble that indicated the garage door was opening.

“Cover,” she said to Luke and they trotted toward the retaining wall. Before they reached a safe place, she saw a man in a wheelchair appear in the opening and raise an assault rifle. He started shooting.

At first the shots went wild until he found his target. As Abby dove for cover, she saw the man look their way. At the same moment they reached the safety of cover, bullets began pinging the wall, kicking up dirt, shredding the plants, pulverizing the brick wall. They didn’t have much time. He was screaming as he fired, but Abby couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“Do you hear sirens?” Abby yelled to Luke.

“All I hear are bullets.” He glanced back toward the car. “If he decides to shoot up the car, Molly doesn’t have a prayer.”

He voiced Abby’s greatest fear. The troops were coming, but did they have the luxury of time?

“I agree. I’m open to suggestions.”

“He’ll be reloading soon.” He pointed across the driveway. “I’ll draw his fire and you take a shot.”

She stared at him.

He smiled. Those sharp, clear eyes held no hint of fear or doubt. He put a hand on her shoulder as the shooting paused. The sound of an empty clip bouncing on the ground was followed by the clang of a fresh clip being jammed into place.

“He has to be stopped,” Luke said. “I trust you.”

He was up and running before Abby could argue.

She stood, training her weapon on the man in the wheelchair as he raised his rifle to aim at Luke.

He was wearing a ballistic vest.

“O Lord, protect Luke,” she prayed as she shifted her aim and fired.