Vengeance (15 page)

"Of course I do. It might interfere with my plans."

"What exactly are your plans? You know it has to look like an accident. What are you considering?"

I straightened up at the insistent tone of his voice. Cerberus padded over and stared up at the phone.
I don't like the sound of this. Why does he care? He's never cared before
.

How would you know?
Before the dog could answer I said,
I know, I know. Special assignment
. "I'd rather not discuss that," I said aloud. "The fewer people who know the details, the better."

"Well, whatever you decide to do, make it flexible. Be prepared to move on Friday if needed. Can you do that?"

I walked to the French doors, staring at the sun streaming through the trees. There was no way anyone would harm Lucinda, either on Friday or any other day.

My, my. Haven't you changed?

I glanced at Cerberus, sitting next to the desk and staring at the phone like a caricature of the RCA-Victor dog.

Are you convinced now? Do you know she's Persa?
he asked.

I looked at the world outside, avoiding his gaze.
No. But she's Lucinda and that's enough
. I said aloud to Parker, "Of course."

"Nico..."

I turned, surprised, to stare at the phone. Parker sounded apologetic. Cerberus must have heard it too. He cocked his head, one ear flopping inside out like the stuffed bunny sitting on the kitchen counter. "Yes, Parker?"

"We're getting a lot of pressure on this one, from very high up. Be careful."

"How high up?"

"Let me put it this way. If something goes wrong, I don't know if I can help you."

"Then I'll have to just make sure nothing goes wrong." I tried to sound off-handed and confident. I must have succeeded because Parker said,

"Good. Keep me updated on your progress. Be prepared to move on Friday."

"Understood."

I touched the microphone switch on my sweater then jammed my hands into my jeans pockets. "What do you think that meant?"

Cerberus went past me to sit at the door, staring at the melting snow.
I think it means we've got our work cut out for us. If we're not careful, Lucinda might not be the only victim on Friday.
He looked at me over his shoulder.
You may be immortal, but I'm not. I'd like to keep my skin intact and keep Lucinda's skin intact too. It might be tricky
.

I heartily agreed.

I stared down at the fat prospectus in front of me. I had read and re-read it, but the words were blurring together. Too much had happened in too short a time. My head felt as if it was exploding from all the information stuffed into it.

Persa.

Lucinda.

Meyer.

The disconnected threads of my life were all being gathered, right here, right now. I pushed away from my desk and walked to the window. Cerberus snored on the rug, his front paws twitching with his dream. I smiled at the sight. His body was long and lean, the dense fur emphasizing rather than disguising his muscular length. Stretched out he looked almost as tall as me. I leaned over and splayed my fingers in the air over one of his leathery black paws. It was enormous, almost as big as my hand.

His eyelids flickered and opened. For an instant he was unfocused then with a snarl he drew back from my outstretched hand in a curious sliding motion, avoiding contact with me.
Get away
, he growled.
Don't touch me
.

I jerked my hand upward. "Why not? You let Lucinda touch you."

She's different
. He sidled across the room, glaring over one shoulder at me.
She's special
.

The damn ungrateful dog--after all I'd done for him. "Yeah, she's so special she dumped you with a stranger." I stalked out of the room. "I'm going for a run. If you want out, wait for me by the garage door."

I didn't stay to see his response. I took the stairs two at a time to my bedroom, stripping off my shirt and tie as I went. I dragged on lightweight sweats and my running shoes then came back down to the kitchen. Cerberus was sitting by the kitchen door, his muzzle pressed to the crack as though to sniff out the world beyond.

I'm sorry,
he said in a low voice.
You startled me
.

I didn't reply, just touched the control to open the door. He bounded into the garage then to the driveway, waiting for me near the azalea bushes that edged the pavement. Their buds were fat with energy, waiting to burst forth at the first true sign of spring. I wish I felt so alive.

Our neighborhood had no sidewalks, so I started at a quick walk down the street for a warm-up. "Do you need a leash to stay nearby?" I asked as Cerberus's jaunty plumed tail bounced ahead of me.

I know the rules
, he said without looking at me.
I'll follow them, mostly. Which way?

"I don't care." The sun was starting to edge downward toward the horizon. The long shadows on the street flickered in the light, making images dance on my retinas. "Let's go to the park." I gestured to the left ahead where the path led into the woods. "There's a good trail there."

I know. I checked it out. The killer Bambini use it. Oh, look, there's the cookie lady. Hey, Cookie Lady! I loved the cookies and that Easter bunny was great
. Cerberus woofed a greeting to Mrs. Taylor, who was sweeping the winter's accumulation of road salt and dirt out of her garage with a shop broom that was almost as big as she was. The dog loped up her drive, tail wagging as he barked.

"Hello," she called out, setting the broom aside to give Cerberus a brisk head-rubbing. I glared at the dog.

She rubs good
. He scooted around to peer at me from behind her legs.
Sorry. I just don't like it when men touch me. Must be a guy thing.

Guy thing, my ass
. "Come away from her, she doesn't want your muddy butt on her boots," I said to the dog, who now sat on Mrs. Taylor's foot and stared up at her with unabashed adoration in his pale eyes.

"Oh, I don't mind, Nico. What's her name? You never did tell me."

"It's a he and his name is Cerberus." I gestured to the dog. "Come on. Let's go for our walk."

I like her
. He leaned against her leg.
She smells good. She smells like cookies
.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to impugn your masculinity." Mrs. Taylor laughed as she gave Cerberus a push to get him moving. "Will we see you both tomorrow night for the potluck? With your lady friend, perhaps?"

I shook my head. I didn't need a security system when I had Edna Taylor. Even though our houses were separated by a street, large yards and trees, my neighbor undoubtedly knew when Lucinda had arrived, when she left and what she looked like.

"I've asked her but I'm not sure if she's available." I edged toward the park, whose entrance lay between Mrs. Taylor's house on the west and Martha Neilson's house on the east. "Come on, dog. Let's get moving."

"Did that man find you?" Edna asked as Cerberus trotted toward me.

Both the dog and I stopped to stare at her.
What man?
"What man?"

"He was driving a big SUV. He was here earlier in the day, after you and your friend left. I saw him sitting outside your house so I went over and asked him if he needed help." She gave a sniff of disapproval. "It was obvious you weren't home, so I don't know why he was sitting there. I thought he was taking pictures of your house then I saw he just had one of those mobile phones. He said he'd call you."

Good Lord, Mrs. Taylor approaching a strange man sitting in a car, probably with a camera phone? It made my stomach hurt just to think of the danger she might have been in. "If he comes back, you call me. You've got my number and if I'm not home, it will forward to my mobile phone. Call me."

She waved a hand. "I'm not stupid. Wayne was watching out for me from the window."

I thought of eighty-five-year-old Wayne "watching out" for eighty-year-old Edna. "Good. But call me next time."

Do it
, Cerberus urged over his shoulder as he led the way down the tree-lined street.
We can handle any strangers hanging about
.

"Not to worry. I will." She watched until we got to the path then went back to her sweeping.

I broke into a lope on the trail I had paved thirty years earlier. The Mark Hatcher Memorial Park was a legacy I gave myself in a previous existence and I enjoyed it to this day. Since I owned the entire subdivision through a variety of holding companies, I was able to keep these two hundred acres protected from development.

It was cold in the woods with patches of ice on the ground in spots untouched by sunlight. But the trees were hazy with new greenery and I saw the white flowers of bloodroot poking out under dead leaves. Even the air had that moist, earthy quality that spoke "spring." I broke into an easy run, just enough to make my heart work hard but not enough to cause gasping. I was deathly ill in the initial three decades of the virus that Meyer had inflicted on me, catching every disease I came into contact with. It was as though my body was embracing then rejecting anything that might kill it. It took another few decades to determine what was now "normal" for me.

I saw Cerberus far ahead of me. He had reached the lake and was nosing around the fallen trees that lined the shoreline near the path. When I came into view he broke into a run again, going clockwise around the lake. It was the steepest route, with the path leading up a small hill that overlooked the water then descending into a declivity where the picnic shelter, boarded up for the winter, sat next to the small dock. Rowboats would sit there in the summer along with paddleboats, canoes and other water toys.

I passed the shelter and climbed the hill beyond, cresting again to look down at the sparkling lake. Although the ice had gone out, I knew it was bitterly cold and wouldn't warm until Memorial Day at the earliest. Cerberus was in the distance, his tail wagging as he trotted near the lake. I rounded a curve and the breeze shifted, now in my face. The moist smell was richer here, sharper. The path was also rockier, probably washed over by debris from the lake. I picked my way carefully, almost stumbling at the bottom.

I didn't hear the shot until after I was hit. The impact pushed me forward. I twisted and fell into the relatively softer vegetation at the side of the trail. A popping, sharp sound echoed around the lake. Small caliber, probably fired from close by.

The ground was cold and still solid. Only the top inch or two was thawed. I landed hard with a jarring thud, scraping my hands and bruising my face on the sharp stubble of last year's wild asters. There was a roaring sound in my ears, shock or adrenaline.

Then the pain started. I've been shot many times in my life and knew what to expect. The first wave of pain chilled me then I took a long, steadying breath as I sat up, pushing with one hand in the muck of underbrush behind me. I was taking inventory when Cerberus came bounding back along the path.

What happened? I heard something. Did you fall? What--oh, oh, there's blood. What happened? I didn't smell anything bad.

"I was shot." I looked down at my now-stained gray sweatshirt. Blood oozed from a hole in the right side, high near the collarbone. The wound was ragged, which meant I was shot from the back. "There's a sniper somewhere."

Was it the man in the SUV? Are you okay?
He did an odd little dance, moving toward me, then jumping away, as though afraid to get near.

"I'll be okay. The bleeding will stop soon. It always does. I'll just be tired for a while. The bigger problem is the gunman."

Cerberus turned and faced back up the path in the direction we came from.
Someone is there
, he said with a low growl.

Get away
, I said.
Hide
.

I'm not afraid.

I know you're not, you damn dog
. I pressed my left palm against my right shoulder, wincing as the pain lanced down my arm.
But maybe you can ambush him
.

Good plan
. The dog whirled and started back the way he'd come.

"Stay right there."

Robert Meyer emerged from the shelter.

Cerberus hesitated, looking from me to Meyer. "Go on, dog, get away."

"He stays." Meyer gestured with the small gun he held. "I'd rather not be distracted later by looking for him."