The Watched (CSI Reilly Steel #4) (36 page)

She
spoke up. ‘You do know you and I are going to get in a shitload of trouble for this, don’t you? The worst I’ll get is a slap on the wrist for sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong. You could end up not being able to work again if the Feds are pissed enough. I doubt they’d arrest you, but Agent Kent isn’t one to let something like this slide.’

Daniel
set his jaw. ‘If it saves my son’s life, I’ll consider it well worth the price.’

‘You and me both.’
Reilly’s expression was grim. ‘All right then, let’s get this bastard.’

The
Maestro surveyed the location with a critical eye. Sheldon really knew this spot well. His information was perfect. The northbound track curved along a culvert, disappearing behind a small group of trees.

With
his car positioned exactly as Sheldon had written it, there was no way the train operator could see it before it was too late. Any other place along the track would give anyone enough time to stop well before collision, maybe even before hitting the hero, spoiling the entire scene.

However, with the
vehicle basically hidden, there was no way to include it in the same shot as Todd without moving the camera. The culvert made setting up a second camera impractical and the rush of air from the train would knock any tripod over into the ditch.

No,
he would need to stay through the whole thing so he could physically pan the shot. The best angle for what he needed was from the westbound track.

He
swore as he struggled with the tripod. It wouldn’t stay in position evenly, causing the picture to be filmed at a tilt. He swore again, more vilely than before. It looked like he was going to have to hold the camera himself.

Oh well, hand-held did have its perks. Generally, the style was used to convey a sense of unease or fear. Maybe it would end up fitting nicely with the theme of the film. One never could tell. And there was no way it would be worse than that
90s film about those idiots lost in the woods. Amateurs.

The Maestro
glanced at his watch. It was nearly time. Just as he thought it, a train whistle sounded in the distance. He grinned, barely able to contain his excitement. This was it, the moment he’d been waiting for. Forget that loser, Wesley Fisher; after today, everyone would know
his
name. He’d be cited in every film school from Los Angeles to the Big Apple. His would be the movie to beat, the standard by which all other movies would be judged.

The Maestro turned the camera on
his star and prepared to record.

It was
finally time for Paul Lennox to make motion picture history.

CHAPTER 43

His job came with certain risks, he’d accepted that from the moment he’d decided to work CSI. Dangerous neighborhoods, mob- and gang-related cases where death threats were as common as breathing. More than one case with dangerous toxins resulting in quarantines and the occasional hospitalization, one time for almost a full month.

At no time since deciding to pursue a career in forensic science, however, had Todd expected to be kidnapped by a
psychotic movie director and tied to a set of train tracks. The Academy hadn’t prepared him for this scenario. Not that anything really could have prepared him for this.

Todd turned his head, the heat from the metal tracks rising in waves to his cheek. He could almost feel his skin blistering but ignored the pain. It was as inconsequential as the throbbing ache from his concussion or the pain in his muscles from the cattle prod. He had to take in as much information as quickly as possible. The vibration from the
oncoming train was faint, but present.

Even as he thought it, a shrill whistle pierced the air.

Fisher had put the handcuffs back on while Todd had been unconscious. After reaching the train yard, the director had wrapped the cuffs in rope, apparently following some directions from the script he had.

Todd’s head had
been so muddled from the combination of electricity and drugs when they’d arrived that he’d barely been able to think. Only now was his mind clear enough to take stock of the entirety of the situation.

It wasn’t good.

The ropes had been wound around his limbs and under the metal, securing Todd’s body by the legs and shoulders until all he could do was wiggle. He tested the bonds again, tensing his wrists to try for some give, anything that would give him some hope of maybe getting free. Nothing. His muscles had been weakened by the repeated shocks and, even as the chloroform wore off, he didn’t have the strength he needed.

Todd
cried out in frustration, coughing as he inhaled dust. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sweat ran into his eyes, stinging, and he cursed, unable to wipe it away.

He wasn’t supposed to die like this, helpless, eyes burning, skin blistering under the scorching sun, head pounding. Certainly not before he’d done so many things.

He wanted to travel. Ski in Aspen. Dive at the Great Barrier Reef.

And professionally. He wanted to run the CSI department. Distinguish himself from his father while
at the same time making his dad proud. Finally make him proud.

And then there was the more personal stuff. For all his screwing around when it came to dating, Todd knew he wanted to get serious some day. Get married. Maybe even have a kid or two.

As he faced what he feared were his last minutes, Todd found himself wondering how much he’d actually be missed. He knew his family loved him and he did have friends, but there would be no grieving widow, no fiancée with dashed dreams. No child to carry on his name.

He supposed he should be grateful that he wouldn’t be leaving some woman
widowed or child devastated. A part of him, however, was saddened by the idea that eventually his memory would fade and, once his parents were gone, no one would care that he’d died a horrible death one hot Florida afternoon.

And then
there was Reilly . . . Todd closed his eyes. He knew that their night together had been nothing more than comfort, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t wondered if perhaps there could’ve been more.

He’d been so angry at her, maybe irrationally so,
since she’d been put in charge of the investigation, but now, as the rumble of the oncoming train vibrated through his body, he admitted that if he’d had to do things over, he’d have changed everything for a real shot with her.

Todd
let the image of Reilly’s face fill his mind as the blare of the train’s whistle drowned out everything else. If he had to go like this, at least their time together would be his last thought.

Reilly
’s heart was pounding, blood rushing in her ears. She gripped the door handle so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The vehicle bounced over the rocks and dirt as Daniel bypassed the road. Her teeth clicked together, each rut a jolt to her entire body, but she was barely aware of any of them.

The train was early, or else
Sheldon had made a mistake, and they were racing against it.

Then, she could see the bend in the track, the split.
‘There!’ She pointed.

On one track was a prone figure, body lying across the
northbound track. A few yards away was someone standing on the other track, hands holding what looked like a black box.

Reilly
didn’t need to be told that it was Lennox holding a camera. Anger bubbled up, burning away some of her fear. She let the hotter emotion take control. She could use it. Anger gave her strength, kept her moving. The last thing she needed in this situation was to freeze.

As
Daniel revved the car faster, Reilly clung to the heat inside her, fanning the flames. It was either that or admit that they were already too late and she wasn’t ready to do that. If she admitted it, she’d have to accept that she was never going to see Todd again. And that was not acceptable. She would not be too late this time.

‘Come on
, Daniel,’ she said through clenched teeth, not daring to look over at her friend, afraid of what she might see on his face. It would be awful to see his helplessness and frustration, but much worse to see resignation.

All she could do was pray they reached Todd in time and tighten her grip on the door. The familiar words repeated in her head as if she were trying to convince herself tha
t she was caught in a nightmare: ‘. . . lay you down and take your rest; Forget in sleep the doubt and pain; And when you wake, to work again . . .’

The excitement had knotted in his stomach, hard and hot.

The Maestro had to stop himself from dancing around as he panned his shot from the hidden truck, over his star . . . He frowned. Todd had stopped struggling. In fact, he had his eyes closed, a peaceful expression on his sunburned face.

Well
, that was no good. Where was the panic? The screams and pleas for mercy, everything needed to create an unforgettable death scene?

Unfortunately, as the train whistle reminded him,
the Maestro didn’t have the time to chastise the misbehaving investigator. No matter. He could use a wide shot rather than a close-up. It might have a better effect anyway.

He
continued his camera pan, stopping as he focused on the train speeding toward the northbound track. Soon, they’d be in position to see Todd on the tracks. He wished he had a camera inside to get a shot of the driver’s face at the moment of realization.

He almost felt bad for the passengers on the train. They had no idea that they were racing toward the biggest roles they’d ever have the opportunity to play.

Reilly was out of the car before it stopped moving. She heard Daniel behind her, his gait shuffling as he struggled to make his twisted knee obey.

She didn’
t wait for him as she ran, her dress whipping around her legs. Her sandals slipped on her feet as she ducked under the old barrier and she swore. She could hear the roar of the train as she pushed her body even faster. Hot pain flared up her ankle as it twisted underneath her, but she forced herself through it.

She could see Todd now; see his eyes closed and
body still. But she could see the train now too and it was too close. They hadn’t been fast enough. She hadn’t been fast enough.

Again.

‘
Todd!’ She screamed his name, knowing it would change nothing, knowing that he couldn’t even hear her, not with the train so close. Somehow, his eyes opened, his gaze locking with hers. Reilly fell to her knees as she stumbled, the gravel cutting into her flesh. She watched, helpless, as the train reached the split.

She was still trying to drag in enough air to scream when
, all of a sudden, the train’s course shifted.

The director
didn’t even have time to react. The train’s brakes were still screeching as Paul Lennox became the final victim in his own film.

CHAPTER
44

He hadn’t been able to resist opening his eyes and his heart had nearly stopped when he’d seen Reilly running toward him. He’d kept his eyes on her, his whole body tensing as he waited for impact.

It hadn’t come. Instead, t
here was a blast of air mingled with the screech of brakes. Todd turned his head even as he felt a warm shower of liquid rain down on him. The unmistakable scent of blood filled his nostrils and understanding crashed over him.

He was alive.

‘Todd . . .’ Reilly was suddenly beside him, filling his vision. Her hands were shaking as they reached for him.

‘
I’m OK,’ he hurried to assure her. ‘What happened?’

‘The train.’
Reilly glanced toward it, an inscrutable expression coming over her face. ‘It went on the other track.’

‘It killed him? Fisher’s gone?’

‘Todd – son.’ Daniel appeared next to Reilly.

‘
I’m OK, Dad.’ Todd squirmed. ‘Any chance of getting me untied any time soon?’

Reilly
and Daniel both immediately went to work, tugging at the ropes. Todd couldn’t stop himself from watching Reilly as she worked. She pushed back a chunk of hair that had fallen in her face and left a streak of crimson on her pale skin. Todd grimaced, realizing that the blood had come from his face. He’d never wanted a shower more in his life.

Reilly struggled to keep her emotions in check as she worked at the knots holding Todd in place. Her bloody fingers slid over the ropes and she rubbed her hands on her skirt. Rust-colored smudges stained the fabric but she didn’t care. The pain in her knees didn’t even bother her. She was vaguely aware of Daniel cursing as he tugged on the knots around Todd’s ankle.

‘The guy . . . it wasn’t Fisher,’ Reilly told him haltingly. She’d forgotten Todd hadn’t met Wesley Fisher so couldn’t have known that it wasn’t Fisher who’d taken him. And clearly Lennox hadn’t bothered to correct him.