My Spy (39 page)

S
AM
GAVE ANNIE
A
TOUR
OF
THE
HOUSE
FROM
THE
HIGH-
TECH kitchen to the open living room with its immense granite fireplace. Upstairs the sprawling master bedroom opened onto a balcony overlooking twenty miles of mountains. There was a fully equipped gym on the second floor and an indoor pool in the back, Sam explained.

“I still can't believe this.” Annie's head was spinning as she
ran a hand along a leather couch the size of Fisherman's Wharf. “It seems so strange. I haven't taken a vacation in five years.”

“We're going to have to do something about that problem of yours.”

“What problem?”

“You're a certified workaholic, which means I'll have to find a way to make you relax.”

Her head tilted. “What did you have in mind, hypnotism or biofeedback?”

Sam pulled her into his arms. “I was thinking about something more physical. Something with lots of cross training. Maybe we should have a trial run after dinner.” His smile faded. “I wanted to tell you before I left, but I had my orders. We couldn't take any chance on a leak.”

“I guessed it was something like that.” She closed her eyes as Sam kissed her slowly. “Is this part of your relaxation program?”

“Just setting the mood. The good stuff takes place upstairs. There's a whirlpool big enough for ten, and I have definite plans on how to use it. I'm praying there's some red lace in those bags you brought.”

“Taylor left a whole collection yesterday after an emergency run to Carmel. Izzy packed all the bags without telling me.” Annie bit gently at his lower lip. “We could forget about dinner and take a look.”

Sam looked sorely tempted. “Most of it's red?”

Annie smiled.

“You are a very dangerous woman.” He brushed her mouth lightly, but somewhere in the middle her fingers ended up in his hair and his hands found their way under her sweater. By then they were both horizontal on the couch, and she felt so good beneath him that it took Sam a minute to realize he'd pushed up her skirt and eased his leg between hers.

He bit back a curse. “Since I'm planning to have you in my
bed for hours, you'd better call Taylor right now. I take it you're speaking to each other again.”

“More or less.” Annie looked a little giddy. She was so dazed that something squeezed hard inside Sam's chest, and it took all his control not to forget about everything else and kiss her into oblivion again.

Instead he took a breath and stood up. “The phone's right there. I'll go check on dinner while you make your call to Taylor.”

“You can
cook
?”

Sam had to laugh at the shock in her voice. “I know my way around a kitchen. It isn't the Four Seasons, but I think you'll like what I've got planned.”

“Don't tell me.” Her brow rose. “Steak rare. Steak on the side. And steak, very rare, for dessert.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Sam crossed his arms. “Endive and walnut salad. Three-alarm Cajun chicken with pan-fried potatoes. Chocolate macadamia cheesecake for dessert.”

“No steak?”

“Very cheeky.” He handed Annie the phone. “Make your call before I scrap the idea of dinner entirely so we can check out that red lace.”

T
AYLOR
GRABBED
THE
PHONE
THE
SECOND
IT
RANG.
“S
UMMER
-wind,” she said breathlessly.

“Taylor, it's me.”

“Thank God. Where
are
you?”

“Can't go into details. Besides, I don't have long to talk. Give me the bad news first. How many have we lost?”

Taylor looked out at the empty parking lot, trying to be diplomatic. “A few. The Olympic fencer left a few hours ago, but old Mr. Harkowitz is holding firm. He gave the TV people a nice thrill a few minutes ago, jogging past in his flesh-colored swimsuit.”

“Nice to know some things haven't changed.” Annie's voice tightened. “Now give me the truth, Taylor. How many guests are left?”

“Three.” Taylor didn't add that another guest was leaving in ten minutes. “Forget about Summerwind for once, Annie. How are you doing?”

“Fine. But no details, okay?”

Taylor looked up as the door opened and Buzz walked in. “Hold on a minute.” She covered the phone. “Another problem, Buzz?”

The sheriff pointed up the hill. “Something's wrong with that new whirlpool on the terrace.”

“You're kidding. The whirlpool's overflowing again,” Taylor told Annie. “I'll call the company—”

“No, try this number. His name is Dooley and he handles pool maintenance.” Annie read out a number. “He swore he'd come out anytime I had a problem.”

“Will do.”

“Is Buzz still there?”

Taylor smiled at the sheriff, who was looking more tired than usual. “Sure is.”

Annie hesitated. “No details, okay?”

“Got it. Have fun. Remember, I'll want an extensive report later. I owe you for causing this mess,” she said softly.

“I didn't mean what I said, Taylor.”

“You should have. I'm to blame, however you look at it. Now, stop apologizing and go enjoy your vacation.” Taylor hung up and propped her chin on one hand. “Annie finally took a vacation, and as of today I'm in charge.” She looked at the number on her notepad. “I'd better call about that whirlpool right away.”

As she was dialing the door opened. A man walked in, shaking rain off his jacket. His gray uniform said Sunset Pools, and he was smiling, a big aluminum toolbox balanced on one hip. “Saw the storm. Figured I'd make a final check before I headed north.”

Taylor glanced at the notepad. “Are you Dooley?”

“Dooley's the name, water's my game.”

“You really must be good. My sister said to call you if there were any problems, and now we've got one.”

“Overflow again?”

“Bingo. The new whirlpool.”

“I'll get right to it.” The repairman fingered his toolbox, glancing at the sky. “Not much time, judging by those clouds. I'd better go.”

After he left, Taylor offered Buzz a cup of coffee and straightened a pile of phone messages. “I can do this,” she said. “Annie does it, and so can I. All it takes is a little focus and organization.” Taylor frowned. That sounded defensive, even to her.

“No one said you couldn't do it,” Buzz said calmly.

“But you were thinking it. Everybody here is thinking it. I'm the screwup O'Toole, remember?”

“You're imagining things, Taylor.”

“That's what I do for a living.” She closed her eyes and drew a raw breath. “I
can't
do this. I hate doing this. I hate being cheerful, calm, and conciliating to strangers and I abhor people in expensive exercise clothes.”

Buzz was fighting a smile. “If you need to murder anyone, give me a call and I'll mediate. Beyond that, you're on your own. I'm sure you'll handle things perfectly.”

“Says you. All
you
have to do is issue APBs and catch escaped convicts,” Taylor said grumpily. “But thanks for extending moral support.”

“No problem.” Buzz turned his coffee cup slowly. “So Annie's gone on a vacation. Any idea where?”

“She didn't give me the details. Spur-of-the-moment thing, I guess.”

Buzz looked thoughtful. “Not like her to take off without careful planning.” He glanced at the remaining news vans parked up the road. “Probably this business with Tucker Marsh did her in.” He stood up and straightened his belt. “Be sure to let me know if you have any more problems, Taylor. And next time you're in town, the coffee's on me.”

T
HE
GROUNDS
OF SUMMERWIND
WERE
DESERTED
BECAUSE
OF
THE storm.

It took only a few minutes for him to lay out his tools and filter hose beside the broken whirlpool.

The rest of the time he spent setting up his equipment so no one could see the highly sensitive microphone leveled on the house at the far end of the gardens.

He swept the slope three times just to be sure.

Not a sound. Not a hiccup or a breath.

They'd gone, all three of them.

After sabotaging the new whirlpool and the smoke alarms, he had easy access to the grounds to set up his surveillance.
Being so close was a risk, of course, but an acceptable one. He was just another anonymous worker here.

He'd been all set to make his move when he was interrupted by that damned lawyer getting arrested. After that, the resort had been crawling with police.

Now his target was gone.

He packed up his microphone, slipped it beneath some PVC tubing, and rearranged the toolbox so a layer of drill bits hid his custom-made German sniper rifle with night scope.

“All done?”

He looked up and saw the big, red-faced sheriff ambling toward him. Had he seen the rifle?

No, the eyes were too placid.

Probably the man hadn't seen a real criminal in years.

He closed the lid of his toolbox and flipped the catches until they locked. “Just about. The filter was jammed again. Lots of leaves and vegetation up here.” He stood up, dusting off his jacket. “They'll have to be more careful with their maintenance schedule or next time this pump will have to be replaced, and that's gonna cost a few g's.”

The big sheriff looked down, studying the pile of wet debris on the grass.

Good thing he'd thought to dump some wet leaves there, just in case. But of course he never left anything to chance.

Except once down in Mexico, he reminded himself grimly. Thanks to that slipup, Sam McKade had ghosted past all of them.

Which was why he was here now, tying up loose ends.

“Glad to see it's fixed,” the sheriff said amiably. “They've had enough trouble up here.”

“You mean that stuff with the lawyer?”

The police officer nodded.

“Tough break. I saw it on the news. Well, your people caught him, that's what counts.” The man called Dooley stood
up and gave a pleasant smile. “This baby's fixed. No more problems, I guarantee it. But they gotta keep those filters clean.”

“Annie will be glad to hear that,” the officer said, almost to himself.

“Sure.” The repairman checked his watch and made a conscientious frown. “Man, I'm late. Gotta run.”

He gave a little wave, hefted the toolbox, and ambled over Summerwind's perfectly manicured grass toward his van, stolen from a schoolyard in Nevada three days before. There was no anxiety, no urgency about him.

This time there weren't going to be any more mistakes.

T
HE
DOG
WAS
JUMPY.

So was Sam.

He stood on the big stone porch, trying to remember, trying to twist the mental threads until they made some kind of sense. But this time it wasn't working.

Annie touched his arm lightly. “Your Cajun chicken is ready, and the salad is served.”

“They are?” Sam rubbed his neck, frowning. “I was going to finish doing that.”

“In that case, we would have eaten around midnight, ace.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Sam nodded, trying not to be distracted. “I'll be right there. Just one more call to make.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?”

Something was worrying him now. Why couldn't he put his finger on it?

He stared up at the tree-covered ridge where clouds swirled like smoke. Was it the storm that had him spooked? With a bad rain, the whole hillside could disappear in a wall of mud.

Not the storm.

Something else. Something he knew—but had forgotten.

“Sam?”

Hell, he'd forgotten about Annie, too busy worrying about shadows. “Sorry.” He frowned as the lights flickered briefly. “I'll be right in. This time I promise.”

“Take your time.” There was tension her eyes, but she hid it well. “Tell lzzy I said hi.”

I
ZZY
ANSWERED
IMMEDIATELY.
“JOE
'S
PIZZA.
”

“Very funny.” Sam watched lightning claw at the tree line. “What do you have for me?”