Free Fall (12 page)

“Then how did you know where to find me?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“You’ve been following me. Why?”

“I think you know the answer to that, too, don’t you, Rainie? I’m trying to protect you.”

“You’re such a liar. I don’t need protecting. Even if I did, you are the last person I’d turn to for help. I can take care of myself.”

“Can you? I wonder. You have no idea what you’re up against here.”

“If you really want to help me, then tell me what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t do that. I’m sorry. I know you were hoping, but the answer won’t come from me.”

“What do you know about Justin? How do you know him?”

“You’ll have to ask your brother those questions. And I think you already know what he is. The real question is, whose side does that put you on?”

“I’m not the enemy. I’m just trying to understand what’s happening to my life.”

“I know you aren’t the enemy, Rainie.”

“Then help me understand what’s happening. Tell me why you’re following me.”

“I told you, I’m here to protect you. You’re being watched. Get out of here, Rainie. I’ll handle this.” His hand swept to the dead man. “Get out of here while you still have the chance. The police are on their way. Go—and for God’s sake, don’t go back to the apartment.”

“What do you mean? I don’t need your protection.”

“You have no idea how much you need my protection.”

Before I could think about answering him, Doren touched my face again and gave me a little push toward the door before turning his full attention to his fallen comrade.

My arm throbbed with pain as I shoved my weapon inside my jacket and left the deserted building, walking as fast as I could away from the terror I’d faced tonight. When I reached the spot where I’d parked my Expedition, the SUV was nowhere in sight.

I glanced around, trying to get my bearings. Minnesota Avenue where it intersected Anacostia was no-man’s-land. No one in their right mind would be caught dead walking through these streets alone at night, but I didn’t have a choice. Whoever had sent the FLA after me tonight wanted to make sure nothing could place me here at the site. I wasn’t supposed to walk away from here alive.

To my left was the waterfront; up ahead more deserted buildings. I opted for the vacant lot that had a small amount of trees I could use for seclusion. There was only one person I could turn to for help tonight.
Margaret
.

Margaret lived in the Bethany Beach neighborhood, which was at least eight miles from where I was by vehicle. By foot, God only knew how many hours it would take to cover but I didn’t dare call her to come get me and I couldn’t risk taking a cab. With my injuries, there would be too many questions and I would be too easy to remember.

I tried to stay out of visibility but it was hard. I lost my bearing several times, having to retrace my steps to familiar areas. By the time I reached Margaret’s affluent neighborhood, I felt close to passing out. I spotted a phone booth around the corner from her place and made sure no one was around. She picked up on the third ring.

“I need to come over. Are you alone?” For Margaret, her work as a physician always came first, but on occasion, she managed to find time for romance. Her current love interest was an investment banker from Alexandria.

“Rainie? What is it? What time is it? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. Can I come over?”

“Of course.”

“Margaret, don’t turn on the lights.”

Ten minutes later, once I was certain no one suspicious was around, I hurried up the steps to Margaret’s two-story house and knocked softly against her door.

“Rainie, is that you?” Margaret whispered anxiously.

“Yes.”

She opened the door and started to turn on the light but I stopped her. “No. Not here. In your study. It’s on the opposite side of the house from the street.”

When she closed the door to the study and turned on the lights, she saw the extent of my injuries.

“Oh, God. Rainie, you need to go the emergency room. This looks serious. What happened to you tonight?”

“No. I can’t risk it. And don’t ask questions, Margaret. It’s best that you don’t know anything. Just do what you can. My shoulder’s dislocated. Can you fix it?”

“Yes, I think so, but you’re bleeding.”

“I took a hit to the head.”

Margaret retrieved her medical bag and gingerly examined my head wound. “You need stitches.”

“No, just bandage it up. It will be fine. Deal with the shoulder first, okay?”

“You want something for the pain first? This is going to hurt like hell.”

“No, just do it quickly.”

“All right. I need you to lie down on the floor.” I did as she asked. Margaret took my injured arm and braced her foot against my side. With one quick movement, she pulled hard and my shoulder snapped back into its socket with excruciating pain.

“Shit!” Tears stung my eyes.

“Sorry, I know it hurts.” She left me alone for a second and returned with some pills and a sling.

“It’s okay. It’s only a mild painkiller.”

I swallowed the pills and she carefully placed the sling over my shoulder.

“Do you think I’ll lose the baby?”

Margaret didn’t answer right away, which told me there was a very real chance that I could. I closed my eyes.
Dear God, no…

“Have you had any cramps or spotting? How long ago did this happen?”

“Hours ago and no, I don’t think so.”

She nodded. “You take care of yourself and you’re in excellent shape. Chances are good the baby will be fine. I’m more worried about a possible concussion. That head wound looks severe.”

“I’ll be fine, Margaret. How long before I’ll have full use of the arm again?”

“Do you have any dizziness, any double vision?” she asked, ignoring my question.

“No, nothing. How long, Margaret?”

“Probably a few days, but it’s going to hurt like hell for a while. Where’s your vehicle?”

“Stolen.” I took her hand in mine and squeezed it. “Thanks, Margaret.”

“You need to report this to the police.” She stared at me in concern. “God, you’re shivering. You’re probably going into shock. Let me get you a blanket and then I’ll make you something warm to drink. That should help.”

“I am the police, remember?”

She shook her head, forced me back against the cushions of her sofa, and tossed a blanket over me. “You know what I mean. Try not to fall asleep just yet, in case you do have a concussion.”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” I said. “But you also know I can’t. Margaret, I need to stay here for a few days. Is that okay?”

She turned in the doorway and looked at me. “Rainie, you don’t have to ask. Of course it’s okay.”

“Yes, I do need to ask, because I could be putting you in jeopardy by being here.”

“Does this have anything to do with Roc’s death?” She saw my reaction and added, “Rainie, he’s dead. You need to let it go. I thought you were going to get out of this.” She came back and knelt in front of me.

“I can’t get out just yet.” Margaret’s opinion of this was clear. “I need answers, Margaret.”

She stood and left me without another word. When she returned, she carried two cups of hot chocolate.

“It’s better for you than coffee.” When I wrinkled my nose at it she added, “Just drink it.”

“I’m sorry, Margaret. I really don’t want to get you involved in this.”

“Rainie, you’re my friend and I love you. You can stay here as long as you need. I have to leave for a medical convention tomorrow, but the place is yours and the fridge is stocked.”

“Thanks, I can’t go home just yet. My place is being watched. I need to borrow some of your things.”

“Of course. Come on, I’ll make up the guestroom for you. It’s late. I think we can rule out any concussion. You need to try and get some sleep.”

* * * *

When I awoke the next morning, Margaret was already gone. She left me a note telling me she would check in with me later that day and asking me to feed her fish. I spent the rest of the day roaming around her empty house, trying to fit the pieces together.

If Roc was truly dead, then all evidence seemed to point to him being a member of the FLA, but this went against everything I believed to be true about Roc Branson. He loved his country. Roc would never sell out no matter what. Which meant someone was trying to either frame him or make sure those closest to Roc—namely me—didn’t check too closely into his death. The question was, who didn’t want me learning the truth? Ed? Doren? Without my computer, I was working on blind assumption. I desperately needed to get to a computer to try to get in touch with someone from the team. I didn’t dare use Margaret’s system.

Margaret had left the
Washington Post
on the kitchen table. I sat down and began searching its contents, looking for some hint that what happened last night had hit the news. There was nothing. I flipped through every local TV station, but no one was reporting an unidentified death. Had Doren been there as he claimed to protect me, or was he the true leader of the FLA? Nothing was adding up.

I waited until I was certain no one was watching the house and then I dressed in Margaret’s jeans, a baggy sweatshirt, and dark sunglasses. I pulled my hair up into a bun and hid it beneath Margaret’s prized Washington Redskins baseball cap.

I left the house and walked a couple of blocks over to an internet coffeehouse. I’d only have a few minutes of obscurity online before those watching out for me became suspicious. I typed a brief e-mail to Mark and told him about my situation in vague broad strokes, asking him to contact me via e-mail so that he could bring me safely in, which meant I would have to risk checking e-mail again very soon.

Then I tried to find out something about Doren Alderees.

One of the first lessons Roc taught me was never overlook the obvious. I started with a quick Google search of Doren’s name but turned up nothing. I was in the middle of scanning the Free America website for possible clues to his true allegiance when two men entered the coffeehouse.

Although they were dressed casually, they were federal agents sent there for me. I didn’t recognize either as Bureau personnel. I hadn’t heard from Mark so I didn’t dare trust them. I slipped out of my chair close to the back of the coffeehouse and ducked out the back door. When I was a safe distance away, I circled around so I could get a better look. Soon, the two men left the building and got into a black Suburban with dark tinted windows.

How had they tracked me so quickly? Was it my online presence or had Mark tipped them off? For the first time in my career, I felt completely alone. I was in the wind. I couldn’t trust anyone, not even those I’d once called my own.

I spent the next few days at Margaret’s house, never daring to leave for fear of what might be waiting for me out there.

After allowing my arm a full day of recovery, I tried using it as much as possible. Although the pain was still difficult to bear, I needed full use of it fast because I believed it was only a matter of time before someone tied me to Margaret and came looking for me here. Without my cell phone and no secure access to the web, I was working blind. I needed to go back to my apartment for my laptop and some personal items before getting out of D.C. This town was over for me. I had to get out just to stay alive.

I waited until after midnight before leaving. Margaret told me she kept the Jeep she’d used during her high school years because it was where she’d lost her virginity, although she rarely drove it anymore. I found the keys above the visor and managed to get the engine to turn over after several cranks.

I parked in the neighboring apartment complex and waited. When nothing out of the ordinary appeared to be taking place, I skirted around the side of the complex and ended up at the back of my building.

Within minutes, I’d slipped in and unlocked my door.

I stood for a second, listening to the familiar sounds of my apartment. Nothing appeared out of order, but I didn’t dare turn on any lights.

I felt my way to the bedroom and had stepped inside when instinctively I knew I was no longer alone.

“Who’s there?” My breath lodged against my throat. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes searched the surrounding darkness and spotted a shadowy figure close by. I tried to run for the front door but a strong arm circled my waist, pulling me back as another hand clamped over my mouth, silencing my scream.

And then he whispered against my ear. “Don’t scream.”

Roc!

Roc was so close and yet I couldn’t let myself believe this wasn’t just some twisted dream.

“I’m going to take my hand away but if you scream, I’ll put it back. You understand?”

I nodded and he took his hand away. The second he moved away, I dug my heel into his foot. Roc released me and I spun around, punching him as hard as I could. My fist made contact with the bridge of his nose.

“Shit…Rainie, dammit that hurt!” Roc tentatively touched his nose. Shocked, his gaze wrenched from mine to the blood on his fingertips. I was no longer afraid but shaking with rage. I lifted my hand to strike him again when he caught my wrist and forced my arm behind my back before I could make contact.

“I don’t think so,” he told me.

“You’re alive? You’re alive!” I yelled at him. “You let me believe you were dead. How could you do that to me, Roc?”

“We are not having this argument now. Get your things. We need to leave.”

“What? Are you crazy? I’m not going anywhere with you. Get out!”

“Rainie, damn it, you can’t stay here. You’re in danger. For once in your life will you just do as I ask?” he said, hauling me closer to his body.

“Oh, so you’re suddenly so concerned about my safety, are you? You let me think you were dead and now you just waltz in here and tell me I’m in danger and I need to leave? Well, no kidding, Sherlock! I’ve been in danger for weeks now. I almost died. But then maybe that’s what you were hoping for.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about? I’m trying to save your life.”

“Why should I trust anything you say anymore, Roc? I don’t even know who you’re working for. Are you still on our side or are you working with the FLA? Maybe you’re the one who’s really in charge there.”