Where Evil Waits (18 page)

F
ROM
T
HE
P
ARTHENON
, L
UKE
headed to the luxury Park Avenue condo the Bureau had set up as Varón’s primary residence. He didn’t want to take Kara there. For one thing, it was bugged out the wazoo—every nook and cranny, including the bedroom and bath. There had been times over the past year when more than a million dollars in cash had sat in his living room, with Beckett and Burke gathered around stacking it into bundles and divvying it up for deposit into one of Montiel’s accounts. The FBI had watched and listened to every conversation, collecting the evidence that would put Collado and his men away for good.

For another thing, Luke simply didn’t like the place. All sleek and modern and metal—Luke Varón’s style. Lukas Mann much preferred the woodsy lodge-style house in the forest. Big windows and lots of skylights.

But that house didn’t exist anymore. Some fucker had set it on fire.

Twenty minutes away from the midtown condo, Knutson called with more news.

“They found the place he put his car,” he said as Luke
rolled down the highway. Kara’s eyes were closed, but he doubted she was sleeping. “He axed up a bunch of tree limbs and buried it about three miles south of your house. Must have hiked in the rest of the way.”

“Daylight, with a GPS,” Luke said. “No problem for someone in shape.”

“Right. He had the car hidden pretty well, but he wanted us to find where it had been.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He left a cell phone there, the one he used to track Ms. Chandler.”

Bastard. But one little pulse of hope tapped at Luke’s chest. “Where was the starting point he used for the directions to my cabin?”

“Turner Field.”

Luke’s heart fell. The man was smart. And careful.

“That’s not all. He also typed a message on the phone. It said, ‘Fuck off, Feds. She’s mine.’ ”

A blast of cold slapped Luke in the face.

“Listen, Luke. This guy’s enjoying himself. Not only has he made you for a Fed, but he also sprinkled Kara’s hair all over the phone. Must have taken a handful from the house.”

Luke went stiff. He didn’t want Kara to hear these things.

“We’re tearing the phone apart,” Knutson said. “Maybe we’ll find something.”

“You won’t. The bastard knows what he’s doing.”

“He’s a screwball. Look, the guy from Quantico is on his way. The barbed wire around Penny Wolff’s throat was crazy enough to get top billing so they’re sending the top guy. Someone with clout.”

Meaning some psychobabble expert who would spend
his time analyzing the killer’s relationship with his mother instead of catching him.

“So, let him weigh in,” Luke said, being careful not to say anything on his end of the conversation that sounded like an FBI agent. “You can feed it to me.”

“He’s gonna want to talk to Ms. Chandler directly. The horse’s mouth.” Knutson paused. “Listen, Luke. Your cover is compromised. You gotta bail.”

He already had, at least, sort of. “Burke knows I’m heading out for a couple of days with my hot new woman.”

“Still, brass thinks you should come clean with Chandler. Bring her in tomorrow morning to brief the Quantico guy.”

Luke kept his gaze aimed straight ahead. Didn’t like the idea of bailing on Collado, yet if he were honest about it, he’d admit that it would be nice to have Kara Chandler look at him as one of the good guys for a change.

“I’ll think about it,” Luke said. “Anything on the list?” He was referring to the list of defendants Kara had prosecuted.

“Not yet. But I sent two agents to interview the wardens at Floyd, the prison where Wolff was killed. We got a list of four employees voted Most Likely to Take a Bribe. Three aren’t interesting. But one bought himself a houseboat. Said an uncle died and he inherited.”

Luke felt a
ping
in the back of his mind. “Why didn’t this come out before?”

“He didn’t bank the money until just before the boat deal—three months ago. Was smart enough to wait until the investigation went away.”

“What’s his name?”

“Gibson. The guy we talked to said he spends his weekends on the boat, near Red Top Mountain. I found
his slip and put in a call to bring him in. I’ll get someone out there—”

“I’ll go,” Luke said. “I’ll have more influence.” He meant:
A cartel hit man will be more frightening than a badge.

“What about Kara?”

Luke thought about it. “Check with Montiel. He owns lodges all over the mountains and lake. I’ll use one of those.” He could feel Kara tighten at the mention of Montiel. Listening hard. “You’ll have to finish up Gibson for me.”

Knutson understood. “We’ll take him into protective custody after you’re done. That way he won’t run the risk of getting strangled with barbed wire or shot by a long-range rifle.”

Right. That is, if the killer still had a way of knowing what they were up to. Luke couldn’t figure out how, since the bastard’s tracking system was out of commission now and he hadn’t been able to follow him and Kara out of the woods. Still… the guy was good.

Luke wheeled the SUV around and headed north, his blood picking up speed. It was the first lead they had. Someone who’d probably spoken to Andrew’s and Elisa’s killer.

Knutson said, “After I talk to Montiel, I’ll send you the address of a place you can stay. And Luke, once you’re there, don’t forget the brooch.”

Luke almost smiled. Yes, the brooch, nestled between Kara’s breasts. “I’m flattered you think it will matter,” he said. “Are you with Aidan?”

Kara’s head spun to him. Ah, yes: Wide awake. Luke handed her the phone.

“Aidan? Aidan?” She stopped and listened, and her
entire demeanor changed. As if the sun had just broken through. “Okay, honey, good. No. I’m okay, too. I did—I had dinner. You?” Pause. “All right. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you more.”

Her hand fell to her lap with the phone. She tipped her head back against the seat. Luke reached over and took the phone and stuck it back in his pocket.

“He didn’t say ‘
Guapa
?’ ” Luke asked.

She glared at him. “You son of a bitch.”

“Guess not,” he said. He wanted her to know that her phone conversations weren’t private. “It was a good idea to come up with a code word. The problem is, it’s the wrong word.”

“What are you talking about?”

“
Guapa.
What is it? I mean, I know it’s the Spanish word for ‘lovely,’ but what’s it to you and Aidan?”

She shook her head, a combination of weariness and frustration. “My father bred racehorses. But he also built a personal stable near the house for the horses he bought me to ride. My favorite was a mare named Guapa. She died when I was fifteen, but I used to make up stories about her when Aidan was little.”

Luke could see it: a young, blond-haired mama with the little strawberry-blond son on her lap, telling animated stories about a girl and her horse. “Well, that’s sweet and all,” he said, “but it’s still not a good code word.”

“Why not?”

“A code word should be something you can slip into normal conversation, something only the
right
person will understand. If you or Aidan gets in trouble and someone’s listening to you—which would be the only reason you would need a secret code—you’d give yourself away throwing a word like
Guapa
in out of the blue.”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“Yes. When one of you says ‘I love you’ the other answers with ‘I love you more.’ I’ve heard you do it. Is that something you always say?”

Kara thought about it. “I guess so.”

“So change it just a little. ‘I love you most.’ ‘I love you madly.’ Something an eavesdropper wouldn’t pick up on, but you and Aidan would.”

She considered it for a moment, then said, “Okay.” And a moment later, “Thank you.”

Luke smiled. “Courtesy of your own personal gorilla.”

“Are you going to tell me what Knutson had to say?”

Luke knew she had dissected the conversation from her end. He told her about the killer’s hiding place for the car, the phone he’d left, and the message. He left out the word “Feds.” He also left out the hair.

Fucking freak.

“Fuck off, she’s mine,”
she repeated. “That message was meant for you, not me.”

“Looks like I’m in,” Luke agreed, and was glad for the killer’s message. It pulled Luke closer. It would keep the Quantico guy from trying to shut him out.

Brass thinks you should come clean with Chandler. Bring her in and brief the Quantico guy.
Knutson’s words came back to him. They wanted Luke to come clean with Kara so she could communicate with them as cops. Jesus. Luke wasn’t even sure he knew how to be a cop straight-out, but the thought of her dealing with this psycho while he went off to wait for Collado haunted him in ways he couldn’t quite comprehend. He tried to reason it away: She was a damsel in distress, and despite years of living by an unsavory code of ethics, there was still some primitive, primal instinct that called a man to help a woman in
need. Especially when she looked like Kara Chandler. In addition, she was strong and smart and passionate, and as a woman, it was clear she’d been neglected for far too long. Luke would question his health if he didn’t want to be the one to break her fast from men—

“Was my husband screwing Elisa Moran?” she asked. Luke’s train of thought screeched to a halt.

“No,” he said. “It was business between them.”

“What business?”

“I don’t know,” he lied. Some things were off the table. At least for now.

“Did he screw Lacy-redhead?”

Luke blew out a breath. “Jesus, Kara. Everyone has screwed Lacy-redhead.”

“You?”

Luke blinked, and couldn’t help the smile that formed from the inside out. “Why, Ms. Chandler. Do you have an interest in the status of my sex life?”

“Not if you were the last man on earth. Answer my question.”

He shook his head, wondering why it mattered to him that she knew. “I haven’t been with Lacy. You heard me earlier. I don’t like to share, and Lacy is… generous.”

That seemed enough to get her to drop the topic, but a moment later she said, “This killer knows I’m alive,” she said. “He’s still taunting me and he knows you’re involved, and instead of being intimidated by you, he told you to fuck off.”

“And?” Luke asked.

“And, nothing. That’s the point: There’s nothing there. I’ve been thinking and thinking and thinking, and I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t know what we’re doing. I don’t know what I should do next.”

“Lucky you have me, then.”

She looked at him, and where Luke expected to see insult, he saw something akin to relief. For half a second, he fancied that maybe she
did
feel lucky to have him.

“So, what
are
we doing next?” she asked.

“
You’re
going to a motel,” Luke said. “A nice little lodge, in fact.
I’m
going to talk to a guard who works at the correctional institute where Wolff died.”

She straightened. “I want to go.”

“No. He may be a dead end, anyway. It might be nothing.”

“Bullshit. If that were the case, you’d be sending one of your gorillas to talk to him.” She paused, crossing her arms over her chest. Luke might have spared a thought to wish she weren’t quite so smart, except that the gesture did such nice things for her cleavage he was momentarily distracted. “How did you find him?” she asked.

“This afternoon, Knutson sent someone to talk to some prison guards at Floyd County Correctional Institute, where Wolff died. He’s also been working through the list of names you gave me earlier.”

She was staring at him again, studying him like a strange species of life she didn’t understand. He was talking too much like a cop.

“What’s the matter? Did you think Burke and Beckett were my only gorillas?” He gave a dry chuckle. “It’s no surprise law enforcement can’t make headway into drug cartels. You said yourself that my network is better organized, better trained, better financed, and better armed than anything the police can muster.”

“Not to mention that if anyone gets in your way, they lose their kneecaps.”

“Again with the kneecaps.” Luke stifled a smile. “You
may not like my reasons for wanting to find your husband’s killer. You may not like that in doing so, you’re helping me lure in Collado. But you know I’m good.”

“Louie Guilford was good, too,” she said, and Luke could hear the grief in her voice. “And by this point after I went to Louie, he was dead. So was Penny Wolff.”

Luke conjured up a half smile. “Worried about me?”

She looked down. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking about, but he could tell the effort to lighten things up had been lost. She swallowed hard. “My son might have been killed this afternoon, if not for you. That isn’t a debt that will be quickly forgotten.”