The Survivor (31 page)

FEBRUARY 2

8:00 A.M. SATURDAY

F
rank slid three dollar-size pancakes onto a plate beside two pieces of crisp bacon. Michelle probably wouldn’t take more than a few bites, but he’d coax her into eating more. After adding an orange slice and cherry, he admired the presentation. She used to do this for him. Except she’d have bowls of blueberries, strawberries, and pecans alongside warm maple syrup, real butter, and homemade whipped cream. Those were the days when the two of them stole away moments together—hiking, horseback riding, long walks—when cancer was a disease others got. Those were the days when he could push aside the voices in his head. Except for his obsession with Amy.

He picked up the tray and walked down the hallway of their cabin near Lake Conroe. With the FBI snooping around his business, he’d decided to lie low for the weekend and think through what needed to be done. The FBI had gotten close, but law-enforcement types were bloodhounds. The custom app he’d downloaded onto that Walker woman’s iPhone had kept him one step ahead of them. He simply had to throw them off the scent.

We’re right there with you, Frank. You have a job to do today, and it will be your finest piece of work.

He lingered to view the pictures mounted on the hallway wall, photos of him and Michelle. Soon she’d be gone, and he’d invite the voices to completely possess him instead of giving them control only when life became unbearable.

“Sweetheart, I have your breakfast.” He entered the shadowed room wearing a smile meant only for her.

He opened the curtains to allow sunlight to brighten the room. Lines plowed her pale face, adding years to her age. He didn’t need to ask if she’d had a bad night. He’d heard the moans, and the torment was his fault. His insistence upon coming to the cabin had exhausted her. He’d wanted to hold her all night, but his touch seemed to agitate every nerve in her body. So he’d lain awake and begged any deity—if there was one—to ease her suffering. Even if it meant losing her.

“Pancakes … my favorite.” She smiled. “Thank you, dear. I know you have a busy day ahead of you.”

He lightly kissed her lips. They had once been soft and sweet, but now they were cracked and tasted of bitter medicine. “Just a couple of errands and a trip to Home Depot. I want to repair the cabin’s roof before the next rain.”

It’s time to go, Frank.

Michelle nodded and brushed a thin hand across his cheek. “Have a wonderful time.”

He left the cabin and drove toward Amy Garrett’s home. The voices were laughing.

Although Frank had made this drive many times over the past few years, today he had a purpose, thanks to Kariss Walker and the app he’d installed on her phone. Oh, the things he learned in the wee hours of the morning while Michelle slept. Neither the Walker woman’s so-called God nor her FBI agent could save her now. Thanks to Kariss, Frank had devised a plan to rid the world of the two women who’d interfered with his ordered life.

He pulled up next to the curb and grabbed a small black
bag. No one would ever suspect him. He’d offered a private seller one hundred dollars down on a used car to take it for a test drive and mechanical check this morning. The guy had even let him take the car last night, with proof of ID. Fake ID, of course. He couldn’t be too careful.

He’d driven the car back to the cabin and changed the license plates so he wouldn’t have to do it in the morning. The car would be returned to the owner while Amy’s and Kariss’s bodies were still warm. If he ran into any problems, he’d just tell the guy that the mechanical check took longer than he’d anticipated.

Brilliant idea, Frank.

Frank forced control into his anticipation and rang the doorbell. The dog inside growled. The animal had every reason to protest.

He stood in front of the peephole so Amy could see him. “Yes, can I help you?”

“I’m Lance Walker, Kariss’s cousin. I hear you’re looking for a piano tuner.”

She hushed the dog. “I didn’t make an appointment. Just called for information.”

“Right. I had an appointment in the area and thought I’d check in.” He gave her a mock salute. “I’ve caught you at a bad time. I’m sorry. Just call the number on the card when you’re ready.” He turned to leave.

“No, it’s okay. Kariss said you were excellent. Come in.” The rattle of locks made him grin. Always four, Amy.

“Your dog?”

She blinked. “He’s really harmless.”

He grimaced. “I’ve been bitten a time or two, and I don’t care to repeat it. Know what? I’ll send one of my associates to tune your piano. I’ve made a nuisance of myself this morning. Again I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“I’ll put Apollo in my bedroom.”

10:35 A.M. SATURDAY

Hiding out was simply too hard on a beautiful Saturday morning.

Kariss read the recipe for the third time. She could do this. Tigo would be there for dinner, and she wanted to surprise him with a decent meal. Nothing grand, just tasty. The marinade for the salmon was simple, and she had all the ingredients from when Vicki and Rose had lived there—lime juice, olive oil, fresh garlic, and ground pepper.

Her cell phone rang, and she slowly picked it up. What did “mince” mean? And what was lime zest? She brought the phone to her ear.

“Hi, Kariss. Did I catch you in the middle of something?” Amy said.

“Absolutely not. I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Can you … come over? I want to talk about the book.” Amy sounded nervous, as if she needed company more than a discussion about their writing project.

Although two agents were guarding her condo from the inside, Tigo had said an arrest would happen before sunrise this morning. She respected his position and concern for her, but staying inside for one more day was torture. Meeting with Amy wouldn’t take long. She could drive herself there and be back in a couple of hours.

“Kariss?”

“I was just thinking about you. Hold on a minute while I walk to my office for privacy.” Once there, she closed the door. “I could probably dismiss the agents and drive over. Are you okay?”

“Bad morning, and I’ve remembered a few things about the novel.” Amy’s shaky voice proved she needed a friend.

“Tigo called last night and said the FBI planned to make an arrest by sunrise, so we have reason to celebrate.”

“Wonderful news. I … I never thought the pastor could have been involved. I’d heard him speak before losing so much of my hearing, and I admired his delivery. Now I’m excited to get the book written.” Amy’s words didn’t sound like her. It was as though she was reading them from a script.

Kariss thought about her cooking project. She wasn’t domestically wired. Never had been. Never would be. So why was she trying to please a man who already cared for her despite her challenges with a frying pan?

Kariss lifted her chin. “I’ll be there within the hour. Hope I can get away without a tail.”

Tigo didn’t pick up her call. Perhaps he was sleeping in after a hard night. “This is Kariss. I know you won’t approve of what I’m about to do, but Amy wants me to run by her house to talk about the book. I’ll catch you later. Oh, I’ll have my cell, so call or text if you need to.”

She grabbed her keys and headed to the kitchen, where she could exit to the garage.

“Where are you going?” Hillary said.

“Got an errand to run.”

“I don’t think so. My orders are to protect you, and that means you stay inside. Whatever you need, we’ll get it handled.”

Kariss wished Hillary wasn’t so stubborn. “How are you going to stop me?”

“Common sense, Kariss. Something you don’t have much of.”

Insults wouldn’t stop her. “I’m dismissing both of you.”

“Our orders come from the office.”

“Protective detail is voluntary. We’re done here. I appreciate all you’ve done. Really. And I’ll call you about your new writing project.”

Hillary picked up her phone. “Famous last words before your blood is splattered all over Houston.”

Now Kariss was angry. “You’re wrong. Tigo told me an arrest would be made before sunrise.” She hurried to her car.

11:45 A.M. SATURDAY

K
ariss pulled in front of Amy’s home. Tigo had called within five minutes of her starting her car. She knew what he was going to say, which is why she’d call him back from Amy’s house. She grabbed her purse and laptop as a spurt of relief shot through her. With the assailant found, Amy would have multiple reasons to be grateful. This would give the two women time to work on their friendship. Kariss believed Amy had been put into her life so she could show Amy the meaning of real friendship, even when it was hard.

She strolled up the walkway and again admired the meticulous lawn. Ringing the doorbell, she heard Apollo in the distance. At least he wasn’t at the front door, which meant Amy had already put him in another room. How thoughtful.

The familiar sound of locks met her ears. When the door opened, Amy looked pale.

“Are you all right?” Kariss said.

Amy nodded and stepped aside, her invitation cold and formal. “Come in.”

“Thanks for putting Apollo in another room.”

Amy swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

For what? “This is fine. I needed an excuse to get out.”

The door closed behind them, and the door locked four times. That’s when Kariss saw him. The man from the shooting range.

“Hi, Kariss. Welcome to the last chapter.”

12:00 P.M. SATURDAY

Tigo checked his voicemail in the middle of running down leads to find Frank Ofsteller in hopes that Kariss had returned his call. He’d thought he had the situation under control, but her dismissal of protective detail made him furious. When he attempted to call her, she didn’t pick up. He’d tried Amy’s cell phone and landline as well, but she didn’t answer either. His sixth sense partnered with fear. What were they doing?

Further research had revealed that Michelle Dennison owned property and a cabin near Lake Conroe. Dennison was Michelle Ofsteller’s maiden name. FBI and HPD were on their way to the cabin, and Tigo and Ryan led the team.

In a secluded area nestled in the trees, a rustic cabin appeared. Tigo and Ryan approached the door. When no one responded, they forced entry. A frightened woman, too frail to rise from bed, screamed.

“FBI, ma’am. Are you Michelle Ofsteller?” Tigo said.

She nodded. “Has something happened to Frank? Has he been hurt?”

“Where is he?”

“Running errands. What’s wrong?”

“Can you reach him by phone?”

“I don’t understand.” Her face turned a deathly shade of gray.

“I think you do,” Tigo said.

“He’s done something bad, hasn’t he?” she whispered.

She knew. At least she suspected something. “We need your help.”

12:15 P.M. SATURDAY

K
ariss had studied enough crime cases to know the man waving a knife in her and Amy’s faces wouldn’t hesitate to use it. His eyes widened, revealing the whites, demonstrating his rage. She had no doubt he’d thought through every detail.

A gun rested inside the waistband of his jeans, and Kariss’s 9mm sat in the bottom of her purse, which he’d taken. When her phone, and then Amy’s phones, had rung, the man pulled the landline’s cord from the wall and then stomped on their cell phones. Apollo’s barks were deafening.

“Thank you, Kariss, for allowing me to use your phone at the shooting range. Your generosity allowed me to install a custom app that permitted me to use the phone’s mic as a bug and the GPS to track your location. Without your cooperation, this would have been much harder.” He searched through her purse for her weapon. When he found it, he grinned. “I’ll keep this.”

Tigo had installed software to trace her on his computer, and she had told him where she was headed. Hope rose, but she needed to stall the man holding them captive until he arrived. “What’s your name?”

“Coach will do.”

“The FBI knows who you are.”

“Right. Remember, I heard all of your conversations. They don’t have a clue who I am. As you can see, it’s after sunrise, and I haven’t been arrested. Guess Tigo lied to you.”

Kariss needed to get close enough to use her self-defense skills, but the man had positioned Amy in front of her. The knife looked … wicked.

“Why did you attack me?” Amy’s voice quivered. “I was only a little girl.”

“He deserved it.”

“Who? Surely you don’t mean Baxter. He was just a boy.”

Coach swore. “Your father was a conscientious objector to the war.”

Amy startled. “Yes, he lived in Canada for a few years until he could return.”

“Right. In 1977, all the cowards were pardoned.”

“My dad’s not a coward. He simply didn’t agree with the war.”

Coach smirked. “His kind turned up their noses at those of us who fought. I survived eighteen months in a Vietnam prison while your daddy smoked pot and sang stupid freedom songs.”

“You’re wrong.”

Coach slapped Amy’s face, sending her sprawling backward into Kariss’s arms. “He refused to give me a job. I’d have even cleaned toilets for one of his buildings, but he claimed he didn’t need any help, and he knew I was a vet. Had hired tons of them. Blame him for what happened to you. Not me. If he’d done his duty instead of dodging the draft, I might not have ended up in the torture chambers of Nam. My wife and I might have had our own children. He deserved to feel some of my pain. The one thing he could have done for me after the war, he refused to do.”

Amy’s eyes widened, and her eyes filled with tears. The missing pieces of her shattered life had slipped into place.

“Please, let me get some ice for her face,” Kariss said.

He laughed. “This is only the beginning. By the time I’m finished with you, pieces of your bodies will be all over this house. I have plans for the afternoon.” His phone rang, and
he yanked it from his shirt pocket. For a moment, a flicker of something that didn’t resemble a rabid dog crossed his features. “Yes, sweetheart. Home Depot didn’t have what I needed. Might take me a few hours. I’ll make it up to you.”

Kariss urged Amy to stand.

Coach aimed the knife at Amy. “What?” He lifted his chin. “Where did you get that idea?”

He said nothing for several seconds, but the lines of his face hardened. “You know better. I’d never hurt anyone. Is someone there with you? Cops? FBI agents?”

Tigo had put this all together. Coach’s phone was on, and that meant he was being traced.

His gaze darted about the room. “Don’t say another word, Michelle. Those men are phonies. If they broke into our home and went through my shop, then we’ll file charges against them. They—” He swore and turned off his phone. “You can’t trace me.”

But he was wrong. Now to stall him until help arrived.

Kariss recalled that Amy kept the door to her backyard locked. If they could get there, maybe they could escape to the garage, or if they couldn’t, at least they’d be separated from Coach until Tigo arrived. And he would rescue them.

While Coach fumbled putting his phone back into his pocket, Kariss grabbed Amy and raced to the rear of the home. Cursing sounded in their ears. She whirled Amy around to face her. “Unlock the door. I’ll try to stop him.”

His footsteps pounded on the hardwood floors and then the tile.

Amy lunged ahead and pulled one latch.

Then the second.

The third.

Coach yanked on Kariss’s arm. She turned and kicked his kneecap, giving Amy a few precious seconds to release the fourth lock and open the door. Amy burst through the door. “The garage door is locked from the inside,” she said.

Kariss darted after her, but Coach grabbed the door before it closed.

“Fine,” he said from the doorway. “There’s no pain you can inflict that I haven’t gone through in Nam. This just makes it more interesting. If either of you screams, I’ll kill the other.”

12:33 P.M. SATURDAY

At first Michelle Ofsteller defended her husband. She claimed Tigo’s accusations were ludicrous and her husband was a gentle man. But when she learned about the contents of his workshop, she confessed that Frank had mental issues stemming from the Vietnam War. She agreed to call him, talk him down from whatever he’d planned, and allow the FBI to trace his call.

Frank’s GPS signal pinpointed Amy’s address, confirming what Tigo already suspected. He made sure agents were en route to the scene, then sprinted for his truck, leaving Ryan with Michelle.

Tigo tried to calm his thoughts as he sped toward the city. Had he become a Christian only to lose the woman he cared for? No, loved. Why had it taken this nightmare to realize it?

Where was God?