To Hell in a Handbasket (20 page)

Ramstead helped Owen over to Petrov's side while the crewmen loaded the Russian onto the stretcher and started an IV. Claire gave details of how she had treated Petrov in answer to one of the crewmen's questions while Roger stood with his arm around her.

Owen waited for the ambulance crew to finish readying Petrov, then told him he was being arrested for murder and attempted murder. After reciting his rights, Owen asked, “Now, where's your boss?”

Claire hadn't thought it was possible for the Russian's face to get any whiter, but it did. Petrov clamped his lips tight and shook his head.

Owen leaned in close. “You're facing two murder raps and attempted murder of a law officer, these folks here, and those two young people. You cooperate with us, and you might get life in prison. You don't . . .” Owen shrugged meaningfully.

“Ivanov can get me in prison,” Petrov said. “He will order someone to kill me.”

“Not if we get to him first.” Owen laid his hand on Petrov's shoulder. “We'll protect you.”

Petrov looked doubtful. “No, I must say nothing.”

“All right,” Owen said. “I'll talk. First, we saw the black Range Rover parked down the street. You and Ivanov rode in it together.” He stared at the Russian.

Petrov stared back.

“The car was empty when we saw it, so Ivanov must have come with you to the Continos' house.”

Claire gasped.

Owen shot her a silencing look. “He hid somewhere when you went off on your chase,” he continued, “and waited for you to notify him that the deed was done.”

Owen turned to Ramstead. “Search his pockets for a cell phone.”

“I already found it.” Roger handed the phone to Ramstead.

Owen rubbed his chin as he stared at Petrov. “I bet you had a time limit in which to contact Ivanov, and that limit's been exceeded. So, he's left, and the Range Rover's gone now.”

Petrov ground his teeth and looked away.

Owen turned again to Ramstead. “Put out an APB on the Range Rover.” He gave him the license plate number.

As Ramstead made the call on his police radio, Owen refocused on Petrov. “Now, we need to figure out what direction he's traveling in. I'm guessing back to Denver. Right?”

Petrov looked away and winced. “I must go to hospital now.” The additional wrapping the technicians had placed around his knee was soaked in blood.

Claire pondered the problem of tracking Ivanov, then had an idea.

“What about the Eagle County Airport? A lot of rich skiers, even from as close as Denver, fly their small planes into Eagle to avoid the traffic on I-70. From the amount of money transfers we saw on Anthony's computer, I bet Ivanov can afford to lease a private jet.”

Petrov sucked in a breath, confirming Claire's guess.

“Eagle Airport it is.” Owen waved his hand at the ambulance technicians. “You can take him now.”

He signaled the taller backup cop to go with them.

While the technicians pushed Petrov's wheeled stretcher toward the ambulance, Nick and Judy ran out of the house.

“Where's Mom?” Nick asked Ramstead.

The police officer looked confused. “When I arrived and got no answer to my knock, I went in and searched the place. No one was in the house.”

Owen frowned. “When did you get here?”

“About ten minutes after your radio call that you were hurt.”

A sinking realization hit Claire in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, God. Do you suppose Ivanov took Angela with him?”

A look of horror flashed across Nick's face. “No. No! First Stephanie, then Dad, and now Mom?” He stumbled back as if he had been socked on the jaw, then he fell to his knees. A strangled howl escaped his lips.

Judy dropped to her knees beside him and threw her arms around him. She shot a beseeching look at her mother, as if asking, “What do I say to him?”

Claire opened her palms wide, signaling that she had no idea.
What could you possibly say to someone threatened with the deaths
of his whole family? The loss was too devastating to comprehend.

The ambulance left with its sirens wailing.

As the sound diminished in the distance, Owen spoke to Ramstead
and the remaining backup cop. “We've got a Russian mob boss to chase, who is most likely holding this man's mother hostage.” He indicated Nick, whose face was buried against Judy's shoulder. “We've got to notify all the jurisdictions on the way to the Eagle Airport—Frisco, state police for I-70, and Eagle County.”

The backup cop's eyes went wide. Claire surmised this was the most exciting call this small-county cop had responded to in ages. Drunken brawls were more the standard fare in Summit County.

“Ramstead will drive me in his cruiser,” Owen continued, “and you follow.”

Ramstead glanced at the wounded arm Owen was cradling against his chest. “Shouldn't you go the hospital?”

“It's already stopped bleeding. I'm sticking with this until we've got Ivanov. C'mon.” Owen stepped toward the driveway.

Nick scrambled to his feet and scrubbed his cheeks dry. “I'm going with you.”

“No, you're not,” Owen said, his jaw firm. “We're not taking civilians along on a high-speed chase.”

“Then I'll follow in the Range Rover,” Nick said. “My mother's in danger. She's the last member of my family left alive. You can't stop me from following unless you arrest me.”

Owen paused, as if weighing the options. “Okay, arrest you, we will. Ramstead, I'll let you do the honors.”

In the process of wiping away her tears, Judy said, “What? You're
charging him with a crime? How can you be so cruel?”

Ramstead recited Nick's rights then listed the charges of kidnapping and obstruction of justice. He pulled out his handcuffs, but Owen stayed his hand.

“I think he'll cooperate. He's getting what he wants—to come with us. Just put him in the back of the cruiser.”

As Ramstead led Nick to the car, Judy ran after them.

“Not her,” Owen shouted.

Judy whirled and faced him, feet planted and hands on her hips. “Where Nick goes, I go.”

“Oh no, you don't.”

Ramstead opened the cruiser's rear door, and Nick slid onto the seat. As Ramstead started to close the door, Judy yanked his free arm, throwing him off balance. He stumbled back. Judy leapt into the car next to Nick and slammed the door shut.

Owen slapped his uninjured hand against his thigh in disgust and strode toward the car. “We don't have time for this foolishness!”

Claire took off after him.

Roger caught up with her. “Where're you going?”

“Where Judy goes, I go.”

“What?” Owen stopped and turned, causing Claire to smack into him.

Claire backed up and met his angry stare eye-to-eye. “You should
know me by now, Owen. Nothing will stop me from protecting my daughter.”

Nineteen:
Flying to the Airport

“Goddamn mother bear,” Owen
muttered. “Get her out of the car, and you won't have to protect her.”

Judy scrambled to fasten her seat belt then folded her arms and glared out the window at Owen and Claire.

“I'm sure you've seen that look on your daughter's face, Owen,” Claire said. “You think any of us will be able to get her out without a fight? And you know I'll fight to get in there with her.”

Owen blew out a disgusted breath. “Put your claws away. I'll get my ass kicked for this, but if we don't move it, Ivanov will escape. Get in the back with them.”

He glanced at Roger. “I suppose you want to come along, too.”

Roger grinned and took Claire's arm. “Where she goes, I go.”

Owen pounded his fist on the roof of the cruiser. “You Hanovers are an impossible family. Six of us won't fit in one vehicle. You'll have to ride in the other cruiser.”

With a slamming of doors and clicking of seat belts, they climbed into the two cruisers—Roger with the backup officer in his vehicle, Owen beside Ramstead in his, and Claire in the backseat next to Judy and Nick. Sirens wailing and lights flashing, the cars took off.

Owen told Ramstead to slow down when they passed the snowplow turnout at the end of the street. As he had predicted and
Petrov had confirmed, the black Range Rover was gone. Owen waved
Ramstead on.

While Ramstead drove through the neighborhood streets onto Highway 9, Owen rapid-fired instructions to the radio dispatcher, who relayed replies from the other jurisdictions.

Finally, he turned to Ramstead. “With Frisco police blocking traffic for us, we should be able to sail through there onto I-70. Hopefully, the two cruisers that state patrol is scrambling will join up with us close to Copper. I hope to catch Ivanov before he gets to the airport, but dispatch is alerting airport security just in case. Drive as fast as you can, but remember we've got civilians in the back seat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Owen cast a deprecating look into the backseat, checked that their seat belts were fastened, then faced the front again, crossed his arms and muttered, “. . . ing, stubborn troublemakers.”

Claire thought she caught a note of admiration in the curse.

While Owen strategized with Ramstead, the two police cruisers sped north on Highway 9, then eased through the intersection with Swan Mountain Road that led to Keystone. Even at ten o'clock on a Sunday night, the traffic-lighted intersection was busy, and many cars had to maneuver to the side of the road to get out of the way. After the intersection, the road curved wide around Lake Dillon, one of the water supply reservoirs for thirsty Denver residents on the other side of the Continental Divide.

Claire noticed Nick's pensive reflection in the window as he stared out at the ice-covered lake glowing in the moonlight. While she sympathized with what he was going through, it was time to get some answers from the young man, for Judy's sake at least.

After clearing her throat to get Judy and Nick's attention, Claire asked as gently as she could, “Nick, how long have you known about your father's work for, um, criminal elements?”

Judy squeezed his hand.

That action made Claire wonder.
How long has she known?

Nick faced Claire and rubbed his thumb against the back of Judy's hand. “Only a couple of months. Mom and Stephanie never knew, though I'm sure Mom has figured it out by now.”

He squirmed, as if what he had to say next would be difficult. “And Judy didn't know until I told her tonight. I should've told her earlier. Maybe then, you all wouldn't have been involved in this mess. I'm sorry.”

Judy's head shot up, an angry glint in her eyes. “You think I would've left you if you told me? Did I leave you tonight? You don't have much faith in me, do you?”

Nick ran his hand through his hair, a gesture that reminded Claire so much of Roger that her throat choked up.

“I didn't mean that. It's just, I mean, I should . . .” Nick's gaze lit on Claire, pleading for her help.

She had a good idea what he meant. He wasn't worried Judy would leave him. He planned to leave her—to protect her. Claire's estimation of this young man rose a few notches.

She nodded in silent understanding to him and laid her hand on Judy's arm. “Judy, now's not the time to get into this. You two should talk about your relationship in a more private place, and at a time when you can focus on it. Nick's too worried about his mother right now.”

Judy looked at Nick, then back at Claire and pursed her lips. “You're right, Mom. As always.”

That “always” sounded a little bitter.
But Claire brushed it off as she returned to her original question. “So you found out a couple of months ago . . .”

“After Gregori Ivanov started pressuring Dad to bring me into the business, Dad sat down and had a long talk with me. He was in too deep to get out, but he was hoping to save me.”

Owen had stopped talking to Ramstead and sat still, or as still as he could with the car rolling from side to side with Ramstead's sweeping turns. He seemed to be listening intently to Nick.

A guilty look swept across Nick's face. “In fact, the day Stephanie was killed, Dad and I weren't really snowcat skiing at Copper.”

“I wondered about that,” Claire said. “Your ski clothes were too dry when you arrived at the medical center.”

Nick nodded. “We needed to get away from Stephanie and Mom,
and Ivanov and the others, to figure out how we were going to keep
me out of the business. If we hadn't been so busy planning how to save my hide, maybe we could've saved Stephanie's.” Nick's voice caught, and he gazed out the window again.

His reflected face showed a despondent frown.

Another victim of survivor's guilt.
“But you said that Ivanov said Stephanie's death was an accident.”

Owen turned at this news and raised his eyebrows at Claire.

Nick wheeled around, his eyes black pools of guilt and anger. “But if I'd said yes to Ivanov, she'd be alive today.”

“Oh, Nick.” Judy's gaze overflowed with love and sympathy. She put her arms around him and drew him into a hug.

Claire quickly filled Owen in on what Nick had said about Petrov's botched scare-job. As she was finishing, Ramstead made a screeching left turn that threw her against Judy and Nick. He barreled down Frisco's Main Street. Flashing lights signaled police roadblocks at each of the stop signs, allowing Ramstead to race through the town. Another screeching left turn directed the cruiser onto I-70.

Claire checked out the back window. The cruiser Roger rode in was right behind them.
What can I say to Nick to assuage his guilt?

“Nick, you can't beat yourself up about Stephanie's death. It wasn't your fault. Ivanov's the one who ordered Petrov to run into her. The blame rests fully on his shoulders.”

“Or Dad's.” Nick glared at Claire as if daring her to deny him.

Claire stared right back at Nick. “That's what your Dad thought,
what he tried to convey in the suicide note, but he's not to blame
either. As you said, he was caught in a situation that he couldn't get
out of.”

Claire wasn't sure she believed that. If Anthony had ratted on Ivanov years ago, maybe none of this would've happened. Or maybe Anthony would've been killed then, instead of committing suicide two days ago. And if Ivanov hired expensive lawyers and wiggled out of the charges, or most of them, he could've been back on the street in a few years. With Anthony out of the way, Ivanov would have had a clear shot at recruiting Nick—probably using the same tactics of threatening his family.

Even if the police caught the wily Russian tonight, the man could weasel out of prison in a few years and target the Continos again. And if Judy married Nick, she would be threatened, too. Claire nibbled her lip.
I've got to get her away from this family.

She glanced at Nick and realized he had been studying her.

“I know what you're thinking,” he said. “And you're right. Ivanov seems to be willing to kill my whole family to get his hands on me. A family he's supposedly been friends with for years. For all I know, Mom could be dead right now.”

“I doubt that, Nick,” Owen said. “He's not thinking of you right now. With your father dead, he doesn't need you as a pawn. He's just trying to save his own skin. I'm sure he suspects we're closing in on him. So, he'll keep your mother alive as a hostage, take her with him out of the country. Which we'll try our best to prevent.”

Nick's eyes widened as he sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. “I surrender. Ivanov can have me. As long as he lets my mother go.”

“No!”

Before Judy could say more, everyone was thrown to the left as the cruiser followed the wide, sweeping right turn the highway made past Copper Mountain. The lights of two state patrol cars winked in the distance before them.

Owen got on the radio to talk to them while Ramstead pushed the accelerator in an attempt to catch up. Claire craned her neck to see the speedometer—then was sorry she had. The needle wavered past ninety.

She tried to make sense of what Owen was saying into the radio. He seemed to be talking to the Eagle County Sheriff's Office, but instead of talking about the Eagle Airport, they kept referring to the Vail Valley Jet Center.

What the heck is that?

Judy and Nick had lapsed into silence and sat clutching each other. Claire decided they needed a respite, and not wanting to interrupt Owen's important conferencing, she sat back and waited for a break in the conversation.

The cruiser accelerated down the incline coming out of Vail Pass, gaining on the two state patrol cars in front of them.

Finally, Owen put down the radio mike and checked the speedometer. “Keep it under eighty. We've got things under control for now.”

Ramstead nodded and squeezed the brakes gently. Down at the bottom of a steep decline, the lights of East Vail winked into view.

Owen faced the occupants in the backseat. “Okay, here's what's going on. Eagle County cops have searched the Vail Valley Jet Center—”

“What's that?” Claire asked.

“The private jet facility at the airport,” Owen answered. “The cops searched that parking lot and the public airport lots. No black Range Rover matching our description. They're working with airport security now to get into the locked car garages at the Jet Center so they can check those.”

“How many are there?” Claire asked.

“Fifty. A valet's supposed to take all the cars in and out of the garages, but if Ivanov knows the airport, he might've been able to get into a garage unobserved. But we think he's on the highway somewhere between us and the airport. State patrol's got a couple of squad cars coming the other way from Eagle, searching for a black Range Rover on this side of the highway.”

“What if he manages to get on the plane with Mom?” Nick asked.
“Can we stop them from taking off ? Shut down the airport?”

“The airport can't shut down flight operations yet. One more commercial flight's coming in. It's an American Airlines flight from Los Angeles due to arrive at ten, but it's running late. The airport authorities tried to divert it, but it's already past Salt Lake City, it doesn't have enough fuel for DIA, and the other regional mountain airports are either closed for the night or the pilot has no experience landing at them.” Owen paused. “Nick, do you know if Ivanov's got a pilot's license?”

“I don't think he does.”

Owen rubbed his chin. “Okay, if he doesn't, and he's contacted his pilot to get his jet ready, and that pilot's not crooked, he'll file a flight plan. Then we can figure out which jet is Ivanov's.”

“Smart,” Claire said. “Then airport security can hold that pilot and plane.”

“Precisely.”

“Black Range Rover near mile marker one fifty-eight,” a voice reported from the radio.

“Gotcha!” Owen whirled and grabbed the radio. “Let me know when you've got a plate ID.”

He faced the backseat again. “One of those two cruisers will pull a U-turn at the next exit, catch up to the Range Rover, and read the license plate. The other will keep coming our way to make sure we don't miss another black Range Rover.”

“Won't the appearance of a police car alert Ivanov that we're chasing him?” Claire asked.

“The cruiser will pass him and keep on going, as if it's after someone else.”

A highway sign appeared in front of their car, advertising the upcoming Dowds Junction exit at mile marker one seventy-one. Claire figured they were about ten minutes behind Ivanov—if the Range Rover was his. She leaned forward, anxious to hear the license plate report.

Owen tapped Ramstead's shoulder and pointed at the two state patrol cars in front, which were pulling away from them. Ramstead accelerated.

The radio crackled. “Got him. The plate matches.”

Owen keyed the mike. “How many occupants in the car?”

“Only one spotted, who seems to match your description.”

Judy squeezed Nick's hand. “What about Mrs. Contino?”

“She could still be in the car,” Owen said. “Maybe tied up and lying down on the back seat.”

Nick's eyes went wide. “She'll be terrified.”

Another voice reported in, and added, “… in quiet pursuit. Should spot him soon.”

“That's the other state cruiser that was traveling east. He turned and is following Ivanov now. We aren't going to approach until he gets off the highway and through Eagle. That cruiser in front and a couple of airport security vehicles will set up a blockade on the airport access road.”