Double Cross (21 page)

12:02 A.M. THURSDAY

At midnight, Daniel wanted to end the search. He’d checked Gramps’s hard files for past business dealings and gone through each one. Nothing indicated a potential threat. His wrist pounded like a war drum, and his efforts to find an unknown item among his grandparents’ belongings produced nothing. Each time he attempted to use his injured wrist, pain shot up his arm, adding frustration with it.

His current project was to sort through Gramps’s desk, the place where the brochure from Lifestyle Insurance had been found. But nothing obvious or hidden surfaced. He needed to stretch his legs and dump energy into his body.

“You’re pale,” Laurel said. “Why not take a nap, and I’ll keep looking?”

“When I find something substantial, I’ll call it a night.”

“More like a day. Okay, how about a break? We can analyze your grandparents’ habits.”

His agony won. “Short break.”

She pointed down the hall to the living room. “Stretch out on the sofa, and we can talk.”

“Keep the lights on, and don’t let me sleep.” Once he rested his head on a pillow, and she curled up in Gramps’s chair, he explored his brain for a hiding place. “I’m fresh out of ideas. Beginning to
wonder if this is a wild-goose chase. A smart man would see the life insurance policy is what the scammer values. I imagine it’s a chunk of change.”

“What is your grandparents’ schedule?”

“Up early, take their meds, shower, and dress. Until recently, on to Silver Hospitality for six out of seven days.”

“Where do they keep their meds?”

“Some are at the facility. A supply is with them at the hotel, but extras are kept in their bathroom. Why?”

“Great place to hide something small.” She wagged a finger at him. “Stay right there. I’m going to take a look.”

“For what?”

“Not sure. Remember I found a flash drive in Wilmington’s hidden safe.”

“I’m right there with you.” Daniel forced his aching body off the sofa. Crazy, useless wrist.

In the master bathroom, which was larger than his bedroom and contained more marble than he’d ever own, Daniel opened the cabinet containing the prescription meds. “It looks like the back room of Walgreens,” he said.

“Or CVS.” She pulled the lid off each one. “Agents are working on your theory, the idea that Cayden and Wilmington are preying on the elderly with health issues by hacking into a pharmaceutical database, most likely Almet. But that might be too obvious.”

“My grandparents’ prescriptions come from the same pharmacy, one of the most reputable in the country.” Daniel picked up a bottle of antidepressants with Gran’s name on it. But she refused to use them.

She reached for her phone. “I’m sure agents have looked into that.” She typed a text message. “I’ll find out for sure.”

“To see if Preston has researched it?”

“Yep. I’d like to see a comparison of the victims and the pharmacies they used.” She laid her burner on the counter. “Take a deep breath, Officer Hilton. You could use a little color.”

“You’re as tired as I am. I’ll look through the top shelf while you wait for a reply.” He pointed. “It’s Gramps’s storehouse.”

She stepped back, a little colorless herself in Daniel’s opinion, but he wouldn’t go there. Two type A personalities could inflict a lot of damage. A multitude of reasons lined up for her less-than-stellar appearance, from her shoulder, to lack of rest, to her confession. He’d process it later. All he could see was a little blonde girl with sorrowful eyes who needed someone to love her. If his images were pity, then he was guilty. Not the kind of sympathy and compassion some men ran from, but the kind survivors were made from. Laurel had fought and won
 
—she simply didn’t understand victory came with sacrifices, and the One who’d given her stamina had already saved her.

Her phone buzzed and she snatched it. “Yeah, individual pharmacies have been cleared.”

One by one, he opened Gramps’s prescriptions, not without a struggle, everything from liquid cough syrup to old meds once used for his Alzheimer’s. Nothing out of the ordinary. In the far back, he noticed a ballpoint pen. Grabbing a tissue, he draped his fingers around it and made a path through the bottles. He slid the pen to the front and read the advertisement on the barrel. “Are you ready for this?”

“Only if it’s good.”

“The pen is from Almet Pharmaceuticals in Miami. Where did he get this? A lead? Wonder if Gramps will remember where he got the pen. Send SSA Preston the info.”

She grinned. “On it, Officer Hilton. This can’t be what they’re looking for, though.”

“You’re right. My wrist has gotten in the way of my better judgment. Those guys want my grandparents dead to collect on the life insurance. Not a ballpoint pen. I’m sure Preston appreciates the late-night texts.”

She scrunched her forehead. “Daniel, I’m not sure what to think. But this needs to be investiga
 
—”

The piercing crash of broken glass snatched his nerves on alert. A siren burst through the house. Daniel rounded the corner to his grandparents’ bedroom, where a red light flashed on the alarm system, an indicator that someone had attempted access through a bedroom window on the second story.

12:55 A.M. THURSDAY

Daniel whipped out his Glock and cut the lights, then glanced at the alarm panel in the master bedroom. “We have a visitor in the rear, west side of the house. There’s a balcony right outside it. Easy for someone to scale. I’m heading upstairs.”

“Right behind you.”

He frowned. “You could get hurt.”

“Batgirl has your back.”

“Are you pulling the FBI card?”

“Naturally.”

“Rather have you than anyone else. The alarm system is tied to the police station, so we’ll have help soon. I’m not disarming it.”

She didn’t respond, but he didn’t expect her to. He crept through the house to the stairway, Laurel behind him, her presence strangely comforting. Not the time to label it caring. It was her training with the FBI or simply a body with a weapon. He climbed the winding staircase and reached the landing. The construction gave the intruder an opportunity to bring them down on the turn.

Daniel reached behind and stopped her. No sounds, only the knowledge someone lurked upstairs. Messner was dead. With the hospital shootout, Fields was out of commission tonight. Who’d yanked her into the black Escalade? Cayden? One of his men? How many roamed the upstairs, and were they looking to eliminate his grandparents? Were the orders to get rid of Laurel and him?

The third step from the top always creaked. He whispered the potential giveaway and motioned for her to follow. He aimed his gun. He’d been in better condition, not the best physique for a shootout. The upper level held thirty-five hundred square feet of bedrooms, baths, a library, and a sitting room
 
—all rarely used. Each area contained corners and closets to hide.

A flashbang to flush out the intruder would help, but those were in his truck. In the hallway, he and Laurel slid into the first room on the right, a bath. A quick search revealed they were alone.

Risking revealing their whereabouts, he ventured forward. “Hey, you’re trapped up here. Come on out before this gets bloody.”

When only silence greeted them, he and Laurel moved into an adjoining bedroom and cleared it just as gunfire broke out in the hall. From the sound of the weapon, Daniel guessed it was a Tactical 12. The pistol grip and strap would make it easy to carry, and the glass-break attachment got the intruder inside. The direction confirmed he and Laurel were dealing with at least one trained shooter.

Across the hallway was Gramps’s library. It had an adjoining bath with an exit closer to the shooter. “Cover me,” Daniel whispered.

Laurel opened fire into the hallway, allowing him cover to the library. He cleared the room and bath, searching for whoever was after them.

“Hey, scum,” Laurel said. “You don’t scare me.”

Nothing. Had the shooter figured out he and Laurel had separated? The walls wouldn’t withstand a barrage of bullets, and neither could Daniel risk her getting hurt.

She laughed. “Fields must have a new puppy. Her other dogs have gotten themselves killed.”

A rattle sharpened Daniel’s awareness. The shooter had bumped into Gran’s shelf of breakable giraffes, and Daniel knew exactly where the person stood. He must not be wearing night goggles.

Laurel shot three more times down the hallway, and a faint
grunt met his ears. A barrage of fire from the injured man stopped Daniel from bursting into the hallway to take him down. She continued to fire, blocking the shooter’s advance and forcing him to remain in the west section of the house.

The shooter released another round.

The firefight stopped.

Daniel slipped toward the bedroom where the shooter had gained access to the house. At the balcony, he spotted a figure darting out from shrubbery below, then rushing into the wooded area. Daniel inserted a fresh magazine.

“I’m going after him.”

“Right here. Go.”

If he’d been a swearing man, he’d have twisted a few phrases about the condition of his wrist, especially when he encountered the thorns on Gran’s climbing roses. He jumped to the ground and followed the shooter’s path into the woods separating his grandparents’ property from a narrow creek. The trees lifted branches into a starless night where light sensors didn’t cover. He stood and listened. To his right, a single limb cracked. He didn’t move a muscle. The intruder had solid training, and that awareness put every nerve on alert. Stealing closer toward the sound, he heard the distinct whine of a motorcycle engine drown out the night sounds. Daniel rushed ahead in time to hear the engine escape into the night. Had to be Cayden.

7:35 A.M. THURSDAY

After the long night’s vigil with Daniel at the Hilton home, Laurel arrived at her apartment shortly after seven thirty, ready for a hot shower. Her shoulder ached too. Hungry
 
—and furious that the shooter had escaped
 
—she wanted relief from the weariness pelting her body. The time spent at the Hilton home had uncovered only a ballpoint pen from Almet Pharmaceuticals.

The early morning shootout attracted cops and the FBI to an
otherwise-quiet community, and she’d yanked on the wig. Within twenty minutes, the property swarmed with law enforcement types
 
—questions and more questions. Media joined the mix, and she slipped back to avoid the cameras, even with her change of appearance. Life seemed to throw one wrench after another.

The massive home would take a fortune to repair. Bullet holes peppered the upstairs walls along with broken glass and destroyed expensive collectibles.

“My grandparents care more about us finding who’s committing the crimes than the cost of their valuables,” Daniel had said.

She doubted a fingerprint sweep would reveal a thing. Not a trace of blood dripped on the hardwood there, which seemed unusual since they heard the intruder grunt. Whoever broke into the Hilton home had training and skills above her pay grade. Which said Delta Force and Geoff Cayden.

She desperately needed a diversion and time to think. Her beloved Phantom crossed her mind. After a long nap, she’d visit him, hopefully take a ride if just for an hour. Stress had her on overload, although SSA Preston would frown on her taking the afternoon off. Daniel wanted to pick her up at two thirty in his bodyguard mode.

Laurel pushed her thoughts aside and turned on the shower. She grabbed her comfy Mickey Mouse pj’s and a pair of thick socks.

No sooner was law enforcement notified about the crime than a text from Wilmington came through for her and Daniel wanting to know if they were okay. Never mind how she felt about the felon. How did he learn so quickly about the incident?

She and the dark-haired police officer were drawn to each other, but why? They disagreed constantly, sharing a pigheaded streak wide enough to scatter the strongest of fighters. Yet their playful bantering while they prepared last night’s omelets, bacon, and biscuits had been . . . easy.

Before the prayer thing.

Before she confessed her past.

“You haven’t said a thing to change my mind,”
he’d said.

She believed codes and puzzles went together like ice cream and cake, law and order. This time, the situation had escalated to hurting others she cared about. She needed to harness her personal feelings, but her normal methods of control weren’t working. And she was running out of options.

Laurel let the hot water massage her aching muscles. She grabbed the shampoo and closed her eyes. Only her bed would feel better. As she allowed the steam to fill her senses, a nudging at her spirit blindsided her.

More than her strange preoccupation with Daniel, thoughts of tomorrow and the next day wouldn’t leave her alone. How many times had she faced death and escaped its clutches? How many lucky breaks were left?

Miss Kathryn’s words echoed in her mind. One day Laurel would be faced with a decision, a choice of living either the world’s way or God’s. She said every person encountered a breaking point when their need for a relationship with God became real and they had a choice to make.

The confession to Daniel hadn’t been the only thing bothering her. During the afternoon when she met him and his grandparents at the hospital, the love and unity the small family shared was more than blood or the same last name. She recognized it. Craved it. Hope. Something she didn’t have of life beyond the grave.

In the past, she wasn’t interested in what she couldn’t see or touch. The world offered more: Love when she needed companionship. A career to give her purpose and boost her ego by making the world safe. Friends who accepted what they saw in her. But nothing filled the emptiness, a hollow black hole where no one cared.

Maybe someday she’d find the answers.