Dead Even (23 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

The first thing Burt did when he returned to the motel was to flop onto the bed, the TV remote in hand. He was more than a bit spooked when, while channel surfing, he found Archer Lowell’s mug front and center on the screen.

That sure got his attention.

He turned up the volume in time to hear the earnest and excited young reporter describe how Archer Lowell was wanted for questioning in the death of Joshua Landry as well as for the murder of an Ohio man.

Burt sat up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Damned good thing I dumped him when I did.

“According to the FBI,” the reporter continued, “the suspect should be considered armed and dangerous—”

“Not anymore.” Burt chuckled.

A sobering thought then occurred to him. Should he worry that the desk clerk or the cleaning people might recognize Archer as one of the inhabitants of Room 109? He tried to remember if Archer had actually been in the office. Burt didn’t think he had. Didn’t think he’d been out of the room much at all, except for the trips down to Landry’s farm in Plainsville, and those trips had been made pretty early in the morning. Burt had brought in takeout for their meals, so it wasn’t likely that any well-meaning waitress was going to call the cops and say she’d seen Archer Lowell and he’d been with a tall guy with dark hair who drove a black pickup with tinted windows.

Now that he thought about it, they hadn’t really run into too many people at all since they’d been staying here. Burt mentally reviewed all the places they’d gone and things they’d done over the past week and decided that he was probably okay. But all the same, it was time for him to be moving on.

Besides, they’d be finding Lowell’s body pretty soon, wouldn’t they? He wondered if anyone had seen his truck there in the park, but thought he was probably okay there, too. He’d pulled all the way to the back of the lot, and hadn’t stayed for more than a few minutes. He didn’t even recall passing many cars on the road.

He searched the room to make sure there was nothing of his or Archer’s remaining, then wiped down all the surfaces with bath towels to remove any fingerprints Archer may have left behind. It probably wasn’t necessary, but still, why take chances? Besides, it gave him time to think about what he was going to do next.

By the time he returned the towels to the bathroom, he’d figured out his next moves. He wanted the rest of the money. He’d promised Vince three dead bodies; he got three dead bodies. Of course, one of those bodies was Archer’s instead of that hot FBI agent, but how the hell was he supposed to find her now? He’d been given half the money for making sure Archer killed Unger and Landry. Well, he’d done that, hadn’t he?

But would Vince think that killing Archer was a fair trade for doing Cahill?

Burt gathered up the remains of the pizza and tossed it into the box. He stood in the doorway and looked around. The room was clean. There was no trace of him—or, more important, of Archer Lowell—left behind. Satisfied, Burt turned off the light and went outside. He tossed the pizza box and the empty soda cups into the Dumpster, then headed for his truck.

He’d be able to make it to the prison before visiting hours were over if he hurried. Along the way, he’d rehearse what he was going to say to Vince Giordano when he got there.

Burt sat in the pickup truck, the driver’s window down, and tried to get his thoughts in order. The longer he sat, the less hope he had that Vince would just hand over the location of the rest of the cash in exchange for a,
Well, I wasted Lowell, but I won’t be able to do Cahill. Can’t we just call it even all the same?

Who was he kidding? Vince wasn’t going to give a shit about Lowell. It was Cahill who was supposed to be the victim here.

And wasn’t it more likely that Vince was going to be royally pissed when he told him he’d gotten rid of Lowell before he’d been able to finish the job Vince had wanted him to do?

Might as well save myself the trouble, Burt told himself. There was no point in even getting out of the truck. He’d just have to make do with what he had left of the first half of the money. There was still plenty left, but shit, he really wanted that franchise. . . .

The doors to the main section of the prison opened, and a man and a woman stepped out into the autumn sun. The man was big, big as Burt himself, and the woman was tall with the most incredible legs he’d seen since . . .

Burt sat and stared at the woman with the dark hair and the incredible legs. He actually pinched himself to see if he was awake and not just dreaming that it was really Miranda Cahill walking toward him. For a second, he almost ducked before she got close enough to the truck to see him, but then he remembered. He’d seen her at the bar back in Fleming, but she had not seen him. He unfolded the map that lay on the seat next to him and pretended to study it.

His heart began to pound as he pondered the possibilities.

The couple drew closer to the truck, and Burt, still pretending to study the map, leaned slightly to the open window to see if he could catch some of their conversation.

“We’re not really going to the Fleming Inn now, are we?” Miranda Cahill was saying as they briskly approached the truck, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.

“That was just a lot of wishful thinking on our part, wasn’t it? A little bit of fantasy to keep us going.”

“ ’Fraid so.” The big guy took her hand. “Besides, if John is right, looks like we’re going to have to—”

The words were lost on Burt as the couple passed by.

Son of a bitch! He shook his head and started his engine, marveling at his good fortune. It had been her. It had really been her. Was there a luckier guy on the face of the earth?

All he had to do was follow them, Cahill and the guy. He watched in his rearview mirror as the two got into a car thirty feet away.

I’ll bet they were in there talking to Vince. Wonder what they asked. Wonder what he’d told them.

Maybe they’d found Lowell’s body. Maybe they’d put it all together. Maybe they think it’s over.

Had his name come up? Had Vince told them about his deal with Burt?

Nah. Vince wouldn’t give him up. He’d bet his life on it.

He eased out of the parking lot and drove slowly to the end of the row, giving the driver of Cahill’s car a wave, letting him pull in front of the pickup. He was good at tailing without being detected, and the couple in the car seemed to be in a serious discussion. They’d never make his tail to wherever they were going. He’d be able to take her out, then come back and tell Vince he’d taken care of all his business. There would be no loose ends left, no reason for Vince not to tell him where the rest of the money was. Cheered, he cautiously followed the car ahead of him, thinking about the condo he was going to buy when he got to Florida.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

Mara sat on the ottoman in front of the wing chair and studied her daughter’s face. Julianne had barely moved since their arrival. Wide-eyed and confused, she had stood at the end of the cobbled walk for a long time, staring at the house. The only spark of life she’d shown during her homecoming was when Spike, Mara’s Jack Russell terrier, had danced around her feet, greeting her wildly.

“You have a dog,” Julianne had said, even as she avoided looking at Mara.

“His name is Spike,” Mara told her, forcing a steady note into her voice. “I bought him after you . . . went away. You always wanted a dog, and I wanted him to be here for you when you came back.”

Julianne had merely nodded, sitting down on a chair to allow Spike onto her lap. He lavished her with dog kisses, bringing the first true smile to her face.

“He likes me,” Julianne said softly.

“He does,” Mara had agreed.

Mara sat quietly and watched as her dog won over her daughter, knowing that she, as Julianne’s mother, would need to take things a little more slowly than Spike did. She wished she could hug her daughter again, wished she could gather her back into her arms as she had at the airport, but after that first connection, Julianne had begun to withdraw. She’d barely spoken in the car on the way home, and once at Mara’s house, she had said nothing until Spike had welcomed her home.

The front door opened cautiously, and Mara’s sister stepped inside.

“Hi,” she said. “May I come in?”

She addressed the question to Julianne, who openly studied her face, then nodded slowly.

“I’m your aunt Anne Marie,” Annie told her as she closed the door behind her.

Julianne nodded slowly. “Ammy.”

“You remember me?” Annie dropped her briefcase and overnight bag near the door and exchanged a fleeting glance with Mara. As a child who had found “Aunt Anne Marie” too much of a mouthful, Julianne had called her Ammy.

The girl nodded again.

“Do you remember this house, Julianne?” Mara asked.

Another nod.

“There were plants there.” She pointed to the wide windowsill behind the sofa. “And a picture of a lighthouse there.” She pointed to a space near the stairwell that now held photographs of Julianne as a baby.

She stared at the photographs for a long moment, then turned to Mara for confirmation.

“Yes,” Mara told her, “that’s you.”

Julianne got off the chair, Spike still in her arms, and stood on the bottom step to more clearly see the photographs.

“Do you want me to take them down?” Mara started to get up.

“No. I can see them.” She touched first one, then the next, then turned to Mara and said, “There’s you and Ammy, but not Daddy.”

“No,” Mara answered, not wanting to look at Annie, afraid to risk finding approval or disapproval in her psychologist’s eyes. “No. There are no pictures of you with your father in this house.”

“You’re really angry with him,” Julianne stated matter-of-factly.

“Yes. I am still angry with him.”

“I’m angry, too.” Julianne turned to her, that anger burning in her eyes. “You must have done something really bad for him to take me away.”

Shocked, Mara sat back as if she’d been shot.

“You must have been a really bad mother.” Julianne aimed at her heart again.

“Julianne, sometimes people do things for their own reasons, reasons that have nothing to do with what someone else might have done or might not have done.” Anne Marie stepped in immediately. “Do you remember when you lived here? Do you remember when you were little?’

Julianne’s face hardened.

“Do you, Julianne?” Annie pressed her.

“Yes. I remember.”

“What is it that you think of when you remember living here?” Annie walked toward the stairs.

“I want to go to my room. Do I still have a room?”

“First door on the left,” Annie told her.

Julianne ran up the steps and, seconds later, slammed the bedroom door.

“That went well.” Mara grimaced.

“Actually, it didn’t go badly at all.” Annie sat down behind her sister on the chair that Julianne had vacated. “Julianne remembers you, she remembers the house—”

“She hates me.” Mara covered her face with her hands. “She blames me for all this. She thinks it was my fault that Jules ran away with her. You heard her—”

“It’s not an unexpected reaction, honey. She’s a very, very confused little girl. You’re just back from the dead, as far as she’s concerned, remember? She’s been with Jules all these years, and regardless of what else he has done, she loves him. He’s her father. She’s feeling betrayed by him right now, and finding it really, really difficult to understand how her loving, wonderful father could have done something so terrible. So instead of blaming him, she has to blame you.”

Mara broke into tears.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry. I told you this was going to be very hard for both of you.”

“I know, but I want so much for her to love me again. I want her to know how much I love her, how I never gave up hope—”

“That much, I’m sure she knows. After all, you did send someone to find her. She’ll think of that, by and by. But for now, her life is a huge jumble, a huge mess of a puzzle. She’s been totally upended. You need to give her time to think things through.”

“I don’t want her to hate me.”

“She doesn’t. She’s just afraid and confused. It’s normal. It’s exactly what I expected her to do.”

“You could have warned me.”

“I thought I had.” Annie massaged her sister’s shoulders for a few minutes, then told her, “By the way, Aidan is here.”

“Where?”

“Right out front.”

“What should I do? What should I tell him? Should he be here?”

“It’s up to you,” Annie said. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m glad he’s here, but I don’t think he should stay overnight right now.”

“I agree. Tell him that.”

“I will.”

Mara opened the door and stepped outside. Aidan was leaning against his car, which was parked in the driveway.

“How’s it going?” he asked when he saw her.

“I don’t think it’s going so well, but Annie thinks it’s all as she expected.”

“That bad, eh?”

He walked to her and took her into his arms.

“Julianne thinks that her father took her away because I was such a bad mother, he had to save her from me,” she whispered.

“She didn’t say that.” Aidan rocked her slowly, side to side.

“That’s what she meant.”

“She has a lot to think about right now. The changes in her life over the past twenty-four hours must be terrifying her.”

“That’s pretty much what Annie said.”

“Annie knows what she’s talking about.”

“I’m scared,” Mara cried into his chest. “I’m afraid she won’t love me, won’t let me love her. That she wants to go back to her father . . .”

“Well, since he’s going to be facing federal charges, there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening. The minute he shows up, he’s going to be arrested.”

“No shooting, Aidan.” She tilted her head back and looked up into his eyes. “Don’t shoot him.”

“It isn’t anyone’s intent to shoot him. The government wants him alive and well and singing like a bird.”

“You mean, about Prescott’s camp or school or whatever it is he has going with these young girls. . . .”

“Right. There’s lots of money floating in and out of that organization. They want to know where it’s coming from and where it’s going.”

“Did you know?” Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face. “When we were there, in Wyoming, when Miranda came for us. Did she know? Did you?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Not until she told me, but yes, she told me that Julianne was in there.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me believe that we’d failed?”

“Because I knew that if anyone had a chance of getting Julianne out safely and bringing her home, it was Genna Snow. And there was no way I could risk Genna’s life—and Julianne’s—by telling you what Miranda had told me. I’m sorry, but I had to back away quietly.”

“And if Genna had failed?”

“Failure wasn’t an option.”

“You really believed that?”

“I did.”

“You wouldn’t have let anything happen to her. If you’d thought something might happen to her . . .”

“I’d have gone in myself to get her.”

“I believe you would have.” Mara reached up to touch the side of his face, and he turned his head to kiss her hand.

“It’s not always going to be like this, you know.” He answered her unspoken fears. “She’s going to be okay with you. When all of the truth comes out, she’ll understand.”

“I wish I was as confident as you and Annie are. That I could believe it would be all right. Until then . . .”

“Until then, you’ll be there for her and answer her questions honestly and let her know that you love her, that you never gave up, that you never would have given up.”

“It’s not easy.”

“No one thought it would be.”

“Which reminds me . . .” She stepped back and held him at arm’s length. “I don’t think you should stay here until—”

“Until Julianne’s settled?” He finished the sentence for her. “I hadn’t planned on it. I figured this was all going to be hard enough without her finding out that, on top of everything else, there’s another man in your life. Especially since there’s a pretty good chance her father will turn up pretty soon. Mrs. West next door has gone to stay with her sister until this is over. She left the key with me so that we can use her house if any of us need to grab catnaps, so I’ll be getting what sleep I can on her sofa.”

“That was really sweet of her. But you don’t mind, until things settle down here?”

“You waited for Julianne for seven years.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers. “I can wait for as long as it takes.”

“I really love you, you know that?”

“Actually, I do know that.” He kissed her. “I love you, too. Now, go on back inside and get on with the business of getting to know your daughter again.”

Mara stretched up to kiss him one more time, then started across the lawn toward the house. Just before she reached the front porch, she turned back to him.

“Don’t forget. Please, Aidan. Don’t shoot him.”

“I won’t forget,” he promised her. “Don’t worry. I won’t shoot him.”

But not because I won’t be tempted to.

Aidan went back to the car and reached in through the driver’s-side window to retrieve his ringing cell phone from the console.

“Shields here.” He listened for a long moment. “They lost him where? How long ago was that? Great. Swell.”

He began to pace slowly, still listening.

“Tell Fletcher and Cahill I’m already at the scene. I’ll be here when they get here. No, Jayne’s gone. She’s been reassigned. Sure. I’ll keep in touch. . . .”

He disconnected the call and tossed the phone back onto the car seat. Then he walked to the end of the driveway and stood in the halo of the streetlamp, wondering who would arrive first, his backup, or Jules Douglas.