Snake Skin (40 page)

So she was pretty much screwed. Unless she
could come up with something brilliant on the fly. She had to
assume Fletcher knew they'd be there, no way he'd trust Ames not to
call them. And Fletcher knew law enforcement tactics.

Maybe it was time to drop the rules and
borrow a play from the badguys' book. No such thing as fair in love
and war. And since she'd be out of a job by morning, this was
definitely war.

She finished making her phone calls, calling
in favors and setting in motion a logistical nightmare. Then she
called Burroughs back. Technically, Pittsburgh would be running the
op—she wouldn't even really be there, on paper that was.

"The only parking is at the Nicholson Street
entrance," she told him. "Bring Ames in that way. Make sure her
cameraman and the van are stopped at least a block away, one
civilian is more than enough to worry about."

"Won't Fletcher be watching the park
entrance?"

"Of course. Which is why we're using it. If
we take it over, he can't use that entrance or more importantly
exit. We limit his options."

"He might not show."

"Trust me. He'll be there. We're playing his
game, he's the Maestro, remember?"

"Did the ME find anything at the nursing
home?" Burroughs continued.

"Apparently Alicia wasn't as weak and
fragile as she made out. She stole both the cell phone and the meds
she overdosed on from her next door neighbor."

"I'm three minutes out. What's the plan?"
Burroughs asked. "You have a double for Cindy? Going to make a
switch here in my car?"

Hah. A double? Only if Lucy could gain six
inches and undergo some serious plastic surgery in the next ten
minutes. Burroughs obviously had no idea how far off the
reservation she'd strayed. She was already ducking calls from John
Greally, Grimwald, and the PBP's public information officer.

Thank God, the SWAT leader wasn't in the
loop or he'd know that as soon as she answered the summons from on
high, she was as good as suspended, maybe even terminated.

But she'd deal with all that tomorrow. And
most likely for many days to follow. Didn't matter if she got
Ashley home alive.

"Just bring her to the parking lot and we'll
go over everything," she told Burroughs.

There was a very uncharacteristic hesitation
from Burroughs. "You're not planning to let Cindy meet him
herself?"

"Not if she doesn't want to."

"Of course she wants to. She's a freaking
reporter, she'd sell her soul for a story this hot. That's besides
the point—"

"Legally I can't stop her. If she wants to
walk onto that playing field, she's allowed. It's still a free
country."

His disappointment vibrated through the
airwaves. "You played me, Guardino. I never expected that, not from
you."

He hung up before she could attempt to
defend herself. But of course, there was no defense. She was about
to allow a civilian to put her life on the line all in the hopes
that she could save one girl.

Lucy twirled her wedding ring. It slid loose
on her finger as if she'd lost weight in the past two days. She'd
lost something, that was sure as hell for sure.

It was worth it. It had to be.

Jimmy watched Lucy through his binoculars.
He'd taken the precaution of stealing the vehicle GPS tracking
codes before he left the Federal Building. All the better to know
your opponent's movements. And Lucy had been a busy girl.

Not for long.

He'd read enough field reports to know she'd
have her people deployed around the possible escape routes, spread
too thin to see him in the last place they'd look.

Black Blazer with a full complement of
antennas, tinted windows and pilfered FBI plates—he was a ghost in
their midst, parked a dozen spots away from Lucy, half hidden by
the shadow of the SWAT team's van, and no one was the wiser.

He reached across Ashley and opened the
glove compartment. He handed her a snub-nosed revolver. "You ever
shoot a gun before?"

She hefted the gun, said nothing as she
raised it and aimed out the window at a trashcan.

"It's real easy. Just point it like you are
now and pull the trigger. But be careful. There's a bullet ready to
go already." He eased the revolver away from her. "Do you think you
can do it? Shoot someone?"

Her face was hidden in shadows but her
breathing became faster, raspy. "Vixen can."

"Bobby is too dangerous for you to go
after," he continued, not letting her know how much it creeped him
out to hear her talk about herself in the third person like that.
Like she wasn't even there. "I know you'd like to, after everything
he did to you. Don't worry, I'll take care of him. What I need you
to do is to distract him for me. See that woman there?"

The TV reporter, Cindy Ames, was climbing
out of a car, assisted by Burroughs, the Pittsburgh detective. They
seemed to be arguing about something.

"You see her? The lady in the red suit?"
Jimmy asked even though Ashley was looking right at Cindy. "I need
you to follow her into that field, aim the gun and fire at her. It
doesn't matter if you hit her or not, I just need a diversion so I
can get to the real target. Can you do that?"

There was a long moment of silence before
she nodded.

"Say it."

"Yes. I can do it."

"Then you need to run back here to the car
as fast as you can. They'll be chasing you, so you have to run
fast. If they catch you, they'll send you back to your parents, to
your old life. To a life where Bobby can get to you anytime he
wants. You don't want that to happen, do you?"

She wrapped her arms around her chest as if
warding off evil spirits. "No."

"All right then." He handed her the
revolver. "Be careful."

She nodded and slid from the car, hiding in
the shadows before vanishing into the trees. Jimmy pursed his lips,
hoping it was worth the chance of losing her. But as always, Alicia
was right—Ashley had to prove herself. If she passed this test,
then he'd know she was truly his, worthy of his love.

As soon as he took care of Lucy, he'd have
the rest of their lives to devote to her.

Lucy had done the best she could. The
Pittsburgh SWAT guys had the streets surrounding the woods covered,
Ames was playing along—although disappointed she couldn't take her
cameraman into the field of fire with her—Burroughs was still
steaming, but since he wasn't in her chain of command, he was as
protected as possible.

All she could do now was wait for Fletcher
to make the next move. She couldn't sit still, so she'd set up her
command post on the hood of her Blazer in the now deserted parking
lot. A map of the field spread out before her, marking where all
her men were, radio communications up and running, night vision
binoculars tracking Ames' progress as she tripped her way across
the field—idiot had insisted on wearing heels.

She was tempted to call Nick, get his
advice, but there was no time. What she'd done was totally against
regs, she'd be lucky if she only lost her job and didn't face
charges, but it was the best way to save Ashley and stop
Fletcher.

A malignant narcissist, Nick had called
Fletcher. What happened when he realized Ashley didn't mirror his
twisted view of the world? One false move and she'd be just another
inconvenient body to dispose of—like the three corpses in the barn
or Noreen.

The image of the Tastee Treet clerk's
mutilated face flashed through Lucy's mind. Her shoulders hunched.
It ended here, she vowed.

"I'm almost to the center of the field,"
Ames' voice sounded shrill in Lucy's ear. "There's no one here. I'm
going to stroll over by the goal box."

"Just stay out in the open where we can
cover you," Burroughs said before Lucy could say anything.

"No problem." Ames made slow progress across
the field. "There's someone moving over there, in the trees. Is
that one of you guys?"

"Where?" she asked, irritated by the
reporter's vagueness. She trained the binoculars on the trees
behind the soccer goal. Nothing there.

"To my right. Wait. There's a girl. Ashley!"
The reporter's cry cut through the night. Lucy watched in dismay as
Ames waved to the dark figure hidden by the trees. The reporter
actually ran, as fast as possible in three inch heels, towards the
trees, ignoring Burroughs' order to stop.

The figure separated itself from the
shadows. It was Ashley. She was ghostly green in the night vision
glasses, but she appeared unharmed. She stepped out of the tree
line just as Ames reached her.

Lucy felt her heart gallop. "This isn't
right," she said into her microphone. "Scan the area, Fletcher
would never let Ashley go alone. It's a trap of some sort."

The cold touch of a gun's muzzle kissed the
back of her neck.

"Good call, Lucy," Fletcher said as he
reached around to take her weapon and pocket it.

Chapter 35

Sunday, 11:12 pm

She crouched down among the fallen leaves,
cowering like a rabbit run to ground by a pack of wolves. No. Not
wolves. Foxes.

Tonight she was the one doing the
hunting.

She caressed the gun. It was lighter than
she thought, no heft to it at all. Cradling it in her hands, she
squinted along the top of the barrel like she'd seen men do in
movies. Centered her sights on the woman in red picking her way
across the soccer field.

Had she lied? Maybe she couldn't kill.

Vixen can
, a voice echoed through her
mind.

Was she Vixen? Was that who she was?

Better that than returning to her old
life—or to the person she was in the black place, back in the barn.
That person was weak, had given up, surrendered. She deserved to
die, be left behind, abandoned in the dark.

Wind rustled the tree branches above her.
She looked around, deciding upon the best route. The woods were
dark but they weren't frightening, not like the other place, the
place where there'd been no hope of light. Something scurried near
her foot. Snakes?

She aimed the gun and surprised herself when
she didn't pull the trigger. No need. She wasn't afraid, not of
snakes, not of the blackness, not of killing.

She wasn't that girl anymore.

Burroughs watched Cindy through a pair of
NVG's scrounged from one of the SWAT guys. His one and only job on
this op was keeping Cindy safe.

His hand clenched the grip of his Glock. He
couldn't believe the way Guardino had played him—she was so far off
the grid on this one, NASA would have a hard time finding her even
using the goddamn Hubble.

Cindy began running toward the woods.
"Ashley!"

"Stop! Cindy, stop. Stay where you are!"
Burroughs shout went unheeded. He left his position in the trees on
the near side of the field. It left him exposed but he was the
closest to Cindy's position.

He watched in horror as Ashley Yeager smiled
at Cindy. Then she raised a gun and shot the reporter.

"Shots fired, shots fired!" Voices collided
over the comm channel. Armed men began to swarm the area. Cindy
stretched a hand out to Ashley, as if begging for help, then fell
face first onto the ground.

Burroughs ran so hard his breathing drowned
out the chatter on the comm. Ashley had vanished back into the
woods. He skidded on the grass, stopping beside Cindy's body,
placing himself between her and Ashley's last position.

Carefully, he rolled the reporter over. Her
face was pale and her hand clutched her chest where a dark mark
smeared her silk blouse.

"Cindy, are you all right?" he asked,
tugging her blouse open to examine the Kevlar vest she wore beneath
it. No sign of any injury.

"That girl tried to kill me," she finally
said, her eyes fluttering open. "The bitch." She sat up, brushing
mud and grass from her blouse. "She's going to pay for this."

"What happened?" Burroughs asked, still
finding no gunshot wounds. No wounds at all.

"Are you deaf? She shot me." She gestured at
him to help her up. "Well, at me. I tripped. Oh damn, would you
look at that? Broke my heel clean off. These shoes cost me twelve
hundred dollars."

Burroughs hoisted her back onto her feet. He
wasn't sure if he was laughing at her adrenalin-inspired prattling
or the fact that she was still alive.

"Hey. This is nothing to laugh about. Those
were Manolo Blahniks."

Lucy's jaws ground together, sending a
shockwave of frustration down her neck. She kept her hands out,
posing no threat as she slowly turned to face Fletcher.

He wore an FBI blazer and cap. And carried a
Glock-22, the same gun that FBI and ICE agents used. Forty caliber
and capable of putting a very large hole into a person's body.
Especially at point blank range.

"Hey there, Jimmy," she drawled, hoping
someone in the tangle of voices on the comm link was listening.

"You should have left my mother alone, Lucy.
That wasn't very nice of you."

"Your mother killed herself. I didn't have
anything to do with it." She still held her binoculars. They were
heavy but Fletcher didn't seem to see them or her as a threat. The
sounds of men calling for an ambulance and searching the woods for
Ashley carried through her earbud.

"She told me everything before she died,"
Fletcher said. "Told me it was your fault."

"Like I forced her to steal medications from
her neighbor and take them just in time so she could die on camera?
Yeah, Jimmy. That's my fault."

"You drove her to it!"

"She was using me just like she used you all
your life. She never loved you, Jimmy."

"You don't know what you're talking about.
You don't know anything about the love between a mother and child.
Look at the way you abandoned yours."