Breath of Malice (13 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

As soon as Sam landed in Connecticut the next afternoon, he checked in with the Bureau office. An agent had been parked on the street where Mary Emerson’s house was since Sam requested surveillance. Sam didn’t have a viable connection between Thames and Emerson and had kept the reason for his request vague.

At the office, Sam received an update that Emerson’s car was parked in the driveway. The agent, Traynor, had been instructed to watch the place but not to approach until Sam got there. Sam caught a ride with another agent, Monroe. Monroe parked behind the government-issue sedan surveying the Emerson house.

Sam and Monroe left the vehicle. Traynor left his vehicle as well, and Monroe made the introductions.

“Appreciate the help,” Sam said. As Sam shook Traynor’s hand, he asked, “Any movement?”

“Negative. The car’s in the same spot since I got here. No one’s been in or out of the house.”

It was a Thursday afternoon. Was it typical of Emerson not to go into work on Thursdays? Sam faced Traynor. “Any sign of Emerson moving around in there?”

Traynor gave a quick headshake, then smoothed down his thick mustache. “Whatever she’s doing in there, she’s doing it quietly, and with those thick curtains on all the windows, it’s impossible to see inside.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “Let’s go talk with her.”

Sam squinted in the bright sunlight. He waited for a car to drive by, then crossed the street to Mary Emerson’s tidy bungalow. He hoped that the person who would answer his knock would be Thames himself. Sam had nothing to bring Thames in, but having learned how Thames tormented Paige, it would take all he had in him to keep from killing that son of a bitch on sight.

The other two agents joined Sam at the front door. He rang the doorbell and followed up with a hard knock before the chime ended.

Nothing. Sam knocked again, then leaned on the doorbell button. He wasn’t going to leave without speaking with Emerson.

A house key peeked from beneath a welcome mat. There was a small window in the door. Like every other window Sam could see, this one was covered with a thick curtain. Sam couldn’t see shit through the impenetrable fabric but, knowing that a person in jeopardy was cause to enter a house, said, “I think I see someone lying on the hall floor. I’m going in.”

The other agents didn’t comment. Sam expected they would wait outside, given his excuse for going in, but they backed him up. Sam used the key, then drew his weapon. There was no one lying on the pristine tile in the hall.

Sam called out, “Ms. Emerson. Federal agents!”

The house was as neat inside as it was out. Mary Emerson was fond of embroidery, and the walls were decorated with framed works of flowers and birds. As Sam led the way deeper into the house, he glimpsed an old-fashioned answering machine on a small table. The number on the screen showed zero messages.

Sam turned a corner and came to the kitchen. A cat lay blinking on its side next to a water bowl and an empty food bowl. The water bowl held about an inch of water. It looked like the animal hadn’t been fed in some time. Sam’s senses went on high alert.

“Think she just took off and left the cat?” Traynor asked.

Sam’s shoulders tensed. “No. I’m going to take a look around.” Sam wondered if he was going to find Mary Emerson dead somewhere inside her house.

Mary wasn’t in the house, but the search showed clothing on every hanger in the closet. She wasn’t away on a trip.

Back in the hall, Monroe said, “Look at this.”

Sam turned. The man was pointing to a woman’s handbag on the floor in the hall closet. Monroe bent down, then opened the purse. A wallet was inside.

“I don’t know about you two,” Monroe said, “but I’ve been married fifteen years, and I’ve never seen my wife leave the house without her purse.”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. Though they hadn’t found a body here, Sam had a bad feeling about Mary Emerson.

Back in the kitchen, Sam bent over the cat. The animal was lethargic but licked Sam’s wrist. Monroe found food in the cupboard and poured fresh water in one bowl. The animal fell on the food and water with gusto.

As Sam watched the cat eat and drink, he said, “Mary Emerson has a sister. I need to talk with her.”

“Sure thing,” Monroe said.

Traynor left to return to his office. After the cat finished its meal, Sam scooped up the feline. Monroe locked the front door, and they were on their way.

Emerson’s sister didn’t live far from Emerson. Monroe waited in the car while Sam went to the front door of a small two-story house. A wind chime dangled from the unlit porch light and tinkled softly in the light breeze.

A woman dressed in athletic shorts and a T-shirt that was stained with perspiration answered his knock. Her face and hairline glistened with sweat. She was panting slightly. It was clear she’d been exercising.

Sam showed his ID. “I’m Agent Sam McKade with the FBI. I’m looking for Carol Franks.”

The woman wiped the back of her hand against her glistening upper lip. “I’m Carol.”

“Mrs. Franks. I’d like to speak with you. May I come in?”

The woman looked from Sam’s badge to the cat tucked under Sam’s arm. “Sir Lancelot?” She looked up at Sam. “What are you doing with him?”

Mrs. Franks reached out, and Sam released the cat to her. “I’ll explain. May I come in?”

The woman nodded and stepped back from the door. She ushered Sam into a living room painted a sunny yellow, then perched on the end of a multicolored couch.

Sam took the matching chair opposite the couch. “I’m looking for your sister. Is she here?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“I just came from your sister’s house. It appeared that Sir Lancelot had been on his own for some time there, judging from his empty food bowl.”

Mrs. Franks shook her head, and her dark-brown hair coiled into a bun bounced. “That can’t be right. My sister loves Sir Lancelot. She would never neglect him.”

“When was the last time you spoke with your sister?”

Mrs. Franks set the cat on the floor. “It’s been a week.”

“Is there anyone she could be staying with, any friends she may have gone to visit?”

But Mrs. Franks was already shaking her head. “No one. Mary doesn’t have anyone she’s that close to.”

“What do you know of her relationship with Todd Thames?”

Mrs. Franks’s face blanched. “Do you think he’s done something to her?”

Sam gave her the truth. “I’m hoping you can help me find out.”

Mrs. Franks sagged on the sofa as if she were a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Oh, no, no, no. I’ll tell you anything I can to find my sister. I told her to stay away from him, but she wouldn’t. She insisted that he had been wronged.” Mrs. Franks put both hands to her now chalk-white cheeks. “She said he made her feel special.” The woman shook her head. “My sister never had that, never had a man dote on her the way she said Todd did.”

Sam’s lips firmed. “Did she tell you anything about their relationship?”

“She wasn’t supposed to. Todd wanted her to keep things between them under wraps. She told me he didn’t want her to be touched by the negative publicity that surrounded him. That Todd was protecting her.”

Sam’s jaw tightened.
Yeah, that’s exactly what Thames was doing.
“Did you believe that?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to, but I didn’t like anything about the situation. Mary was in love. For the first time in her life, she was happy. I want her to be happy. I hoped that she was right about Todd.”

“Mrs. Franks, we need to find your sister. She may be in danger. I need to know all you know.”

Her face crumpled. “Mary was desperate to please him. My sister wanted to be his champion, his savior, and she contacted human rights activists to band together and take up Todd’s cause. Todd told Mary that he didn’t have any family of his own and said that he wanted a family one day, a wife, kids, the whole deal. Mary wanted that for herself as well. She said that Todd had been wrongfully convicted and his lawyer was working to have the conviction against him overturned, and when it was, they’d be together.” She swallowed and began to run her hand across an orange cushion in a vigorous motion. “Mary went to the prison to visit him as often as the prison allowed, but she didn’t always get in. There were two other women who scheduled visits. Younger women Mary felt were more attractive than she was. Mary was afraid that Todd would lose interest in her and choose one of them.” Mrs. Franks let out a shaky breath. “Todd asked her about her family. She showed him photographs of me, my husband, and our three kids. I didn’t like it, but he was in prison, on death row, so I didn’t see the harm. She told Todd stories about my kids and other things, including what my husband and I do for a living. My husband is a car salesman. I work for the IRS.”

Sam leaned forward. “When did she tell him this?”

“I don’t remember exactly, but it was last year.”

“Who has access to your IRS log-in information, Mrs. Franks?”

“No one.” She shook her head back and forth. “I mean, I keep a list of my passwords in the desk in our den. We have so many nowadays, I can never remember them all.”

Sam eyed Mrs. Franks. “Does your sister know about that list?”

Mrs. Franks nodded. “Mary does the same thing.”

Sam had no warrant, but he forged ahead anyway. “I need you to call up your search history from the past year, eliminate the searches in your log, and tell me the names that remain.”

Sam held her gaze. Mrs. Franks left the room briefly and returned with her laptop. A silence ensued. Sam sat as tense as Mrs. Franks.

Some time later, the woman looked up from her laptop. “Searches on two names that I didn’t conduct.”

“What are the names?” Sam asked.

“Paige Carson.”

Sam’s fist clenched.
Son of a bitch.
That was how Thames was tracking Paige. “And the second one?” Sam was afraid he already knew.

“Janet Glaxton Lambert.”

There it was. Thames had Lambert on his radar as well. Sam noted the dates of the searches as well. None of this information would nail Thames. The searches would appear under Mrs. Franks’s password. There was nothing to tie Thames to them.

Mrs. Franks put her head in her hands. “I haven’t talked to Mary in a week. He could have done anything to her.”

Thames had gotten what he wanted from Mary Emerson. Sam believed Thames was cleaning house and that he had eliminated Emerson, a loose end, so she would not be found alive.

Mrs. Franks brought the cushion she’d been rubbing to her face and began to weep into it. The front door opened. A man dressed in khaki slacks and a navy blazer entered.

The man looked to Mrs. Franks and then to Sam. “What the hell is going on here?”

Sam rose to his feet. He showed the man his ID as Mrs. Franks cried out, “Bill, something may have happened to Mary!”

Sam left Mrs. Franks sobbing in her husband’s arms.

Outside on the Franks’s front stoop, Sam blew out a frustrated and angry breath. Where the hell was Thames now?

Clouds had rolled in, and the sun had gone down while Sam was with Mrs. Franks. Monroe was still parked across from the Franks’s house, beneath a now-lit streetlight. Sam got in the car.

“Where to?” Monroe asked.

“Airport. I need to get home.”

Sam needed to check on Thames’s whereabouts. He needed to call Paige. He took out his cell phone, but Monroe went into a tunnel and Sam didn’t get a signal.

The airport was close to the Franks’s house and they arrived there quickly. Monroe pulled up to the curb.

On the sidewalk, Sam reached back inside the car and shook hands with Monroe. Sam uttered a hasty, “If you’re ever out my way, I’d be happy to return the favor.”

Monroe nodded. “Have a good flight.”

The next plane for Columbia was leaving in minutes. Sam’s office had closed a few hours ago. While Sam booked the flight, he called Marian at home.

Marian answered in her usual sharp tone. “Hello?”

“Marian, it’s Sam. I need a check on Todd Thames. I need to know if Thames has left New York State since he was released from prison.” Sam supplied Marian with Thames’s release date. “I need this information as soon as possible.”

“I’ll get right on it and call you back.”

Sam heard his flight being called and continued his conversation on the move. “I’m about to board the return flight. Leave me a message when you have the information.”

Marian said she would, and Sam ended the call. He didn’t hold out much hope that Thames had left a trail, and Sam didn’t have any legal grounds to start a nationwide search for the man. If Thames stayed true to form, they wouldn’t find Thames until he chose to reveal himself.

And Thames knew where Paige was. Sam’s pulse kicked up. He called Paige. Voicemail.

The gate was closing. Sam didn’t have time to leave a message she might not check until he was back in Kirk. She needed to know about Thames right away. Sam called Harry.

“Sam? You back from Connecticut?” Harry asked.

“I’m about to get on the plane. Harry, I need you to get in touch with Paige. I need you to go over to her place.” Sam quickly told Harry about Thames. “Thames knows Paige is in Kirk.”

“I’ll leave right now,” Harry said.

Sam ran onto the plane. His gut churned. Thames could be on his way to Paige, and Sam was too far away to do anything about it.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sam had called Paige when his flight landed in Connecticut, but that was hours ago. She checked her phone and saw she’d missed a call from him. She called back but got Sam’s voicemail. If he was on his way back, his phone would be off while he was in the air. She didn’t bother with a message. He wouldn’t get it until he landed.

She was too wound up to sleep. Maybe a hot bath would help. She checked on Ivy. She was asleep, her earbuds on. Paige thought about removing them, but Ivy looked to be enjoying a sound sleep, and Paige didn’t want to risk waking her.

She put the stopper in the bottom of the tub, then got the water running. She undressed, setting her phone and her weapon on the small faux marble counter. Though Paige had made efforts to conceal it, lately Ivy had noticed that Paige had taken to wearing her Glock in the apartment and had asked Paige about it. Paige told her sister she hadn’t found a suitable place to store it in the apartment yet. Another lie on top of so many.

She finished filling the tub. Water sloshed as she stepped inside. She settled back against the rim and closed her eyes, trying to will her tense muscles to ease. Her body remained stiff, and her mind continued to race. Had Sam spoken with Mary Emerson? Had she been able to provide anything they could use against Thames?

And what of Janet Lambert? They were no closer to finding her murderer. Lambert’s brother was vocal in wanting his sister’s killer found. Paige understood that need for vindication, for closure. She and Sam had worked the case hard, along with Harry and Dom, and were no closer than they had been on the day Janet Lambert had been killed. Thames’s name appeared in Paige’s mind. Paige shifted in the water.

What was that?
She heard something . . . She went still.
Had
she heard something, or was it just the water striking the side of the tub with her restless movement?

Ivy?
But Paige didn’t hear the motor on the chair. Her senses heightened. There wasn’t any chance that she’d be able to relax in the tub. She needed to check the apartment.

Her phone was next to the tub. She wouldn’t make a call and risk alerting an intruder that she was on to them. They might go after Ivy. Goose bumps sprang on Paige’s wet flesh. She had to protect Ivy. Text messages to 911 from the general public didn’t go through, but a message from a cop would. She got out of the tub and sent a text.

Her bathrobe was on a hook on the door. Paige slid it on without bothering to towel off and retrieved her gun.

There was no other way. She was going to have to open the bathroom door and expose herself. She turned off the overhead light. Flattening herself against the wall as much as possible, she turned the knob and slowly opened the door.

The apartment was dark. She squinted to adjust to the lack of light after the brightness of the bathroom. Nothing. She couldn’t make out a shape . . . but she heard . . . something.

Pulse now racing, Paige stepped beyond the threshold. In her peripheral vision, she saw something dark separate itself from the wall adjacent to the bathroom. Before she could swing her gun around, she was struck on the arm and then on the back of the neck.

Paige dropped the gun. It skittered across the wood floor, too far for her to reach it. In the gloom, she made out a man wearing a stocking mask. He loomed above her, his fingers wound around the handle of a baseball bat. Thames—but no, a stocking wouldn’t stop her from recognizing Thames. Besides, this man was a head taller than Thames and had arms that looked as thick as logs.

As the man was about to bring that bat down on her, she rolled out from under him and struck out with her leg, catching the man hard in the midsection. With a howl of pain, he fell back against the wall. A couple of Ivy’s sketches hit the ground. The man went down on his knees. She followed that kick with a solid jab to the groin. Her attacker howled, then fell face first onto the floor.

She scrambled away from him and dove for the gun. Her fingertips brushed the grip, but the man was on her before she could reach it. Panting and groaning, he yanked her up by her hair, flung her back to the ground, then kicked her in the ribs.

Her vision blurred with pain, but again she thought of Ivy. Paige had to subdue him. She couldn’t let him get by her and reach Ivy.

Paige kicked out and swept the man’s legs out from under him. He struck the TV, knocking it from the stand onto the floor, and landed on his back. Then Paige was on him. She clapped his ears, then struck his nose with the heel of her hand. His blood pooled beneath the stocking, and the man howled in pain. She brought her elbow down on his throat. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he went still.

Breathing hard, Paige removed the stocking and thumbed his eyelids. He was out. Ignoring the pain in her side, she sprang off him and snatched up her gun. She got her handcuffs from the upper shelf in the hall closet and cuffed the man, then hurried to Ivy’s room. Ivy’s bedroom door was closed. Paige opened it in a rush. Ivy was still asleep. Unharmed. Relief weakened Paige’s legs, and for an instant she needed the support of the wall to keep her on her feet.

Once she was sure she’d be able to stand, she went to Ivy’s bed. Gently, she shook her sister awake.

Ivy blinked and narrowed her eyes to bring Paige into focus without her glasses. Ivy removed her earbuds. “Paige?”

Paige smoothed Ivy’s hair back from her face and chose her words carefully, so as not to frighten Ivy. “We’ve had a break-in. Everything is okay. I’ve notified the police. Stay in here until they arrive, okay?”

Ivy nodded. She was clearly still fuzzy and processing Paige’s words. Paige didn’t know how long the man would be out. She got to her feet. Her attacker’s punches made each step Paige took painful, but she wasted no time getting back to the man.

He was still unconscious. While she wanted him incapacitated, she was frustrated that she couldn’t question him. Who was he? What was he doing here? Paige shifted the man’s bulk, grunting at the solid weight of him, then fished his wallet from his back pocket and read the name on his driver’s license aloud. “Daryl Johnson.” Had Thames sent him?

A knock on her door was followed by a shout from Harry. “Paige!”

Paige opened the door to her fellow agent. “Did Kirk PD call you?”

Before Harry could respond, Kirk PD officers arrived at her door.

Paige stepped back to let Harry and the officers into the apartment.

When the plane landed at Columbia’s airport, Sam saw that he had messages. As he made his way through security, he skipped the messages pertaining to other investigations, then came to one from Marian: Todd Thames’s name didn’t appear on plane or train passenger manifests or with rental car agencies. No one using the name Todd Thames had left New York State via transportation they could trace.

Next Sam came to a message from Harry. Harry’s words made Sam’s blood pulse, and he raced for his vehicle across the airport parking lot. Paige had been attacked in her home before Harry had reached her.
Thames?

Sam’s grip on the phone tightened while he listened to the rest of Harry’s message. Harry said Paige was all right, then gave a brief summary of what had gone down. Paige had subdued her attacker. Harry said the man had been identified as a local resident.

Not Thames.

Sam felt relief that Paige’s attacker wasn’t Thames, but who was it, then? Harry had said that Paige was all right, but Sam wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw her for himself.

Harry said they were at Paige’s apartment. At the door to the apartment building, Sam flashed his ID to the uniformed cop, then took the stairwell to her front door. Another cop stood guard there. A small crowd of cops and neighbors in bathrobes was gathered in the corridor. Sam made his way through the people and, his ID still in hand, walked through the open front door.

Paige’s TV was on the floor, the screen broken. Shards of glass littered the floor. A couple of Ivy’s sketches had fallen off the walls. The frames were now shattered. Paige had been in a fight for her life. Sam’s gut clenched. Where were Paige and Ivy?

Sam strode down the small hall to the bedrooms. He came to Ivy’s room first. A bleary-eyed and pale Ivy was speaking softly to a female detective. Sam showed the detective his ID.

“We’re done here, Agent McKade,” the woman said.

Sam crouched beside Ivy. He looked her over for injuries, profoundly grateful to find her rumpled, in a purple bathrobe over what looked like pajamas, but unharmed. He touched her cheek softly. “You okay, sweetie?”

Ivy blinked. “Yeah. I didn’t hear anything. I didn’t know anything happened until Paige woke me.”

Sam was about to ask how it was possible to sleep through an attack that had caused the damage he’d seen when he noticed earbuds circling Ivy’s neck. In the short time he’d known her, Ivy had dug a small hole in his heart. “Good that you slept through it.” He looked around the room. Nothing in there had been disturbed, but the apartment would be declared a crime scene. He faced the detective. “Will you be processing this room?”

The detective shook her head. “The attack was limited to the living room.”

Sam faced Ivy again and said gently, “Pack some of your things. You won’t be able to sleep here tonight. You and Paige can stay at my place. I’m going to check on your sister, then we’ll all leave together. Will you be all right by yourself for a few minutes?” When Ivy nodded, Sam said, “Okay. I won’t be long.”

Harry was standing by the door to Paige’s room. He looked as if he’d made his way here in a hurry. The usually dapper agent had blond locks standing up in all directions, and he’d missed several buttons in his haste to don his shirt.

Sam jerked his thumb in the direction of the bedroom. “She in there?”

“Yeah.” Harry must have seen the worry on Sam’s face because he added, “She’s okay, Sam.” Harry released a breath, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I know it isn’t my place to say, but I can see you care a lot about her. I’m happy for you, man.”

Sam didn’t respond. He entered Paige’s room with Harry trailing. Paige was standing by a wall. She wore a long white bathrobe that was slightly damp. Her hair was loosely piled on her head. On another occasion, Sam would have found the combination of the damp, clingy robe and the hairstyle as sexy as hell and taken her to bed for the next several hours while he explored the killer body he knew was under there. But this wasn’t such an occasion. Blood dotted the robe. Sam had a hard moment until he realized the blood was on the surface of the material and wasn’t Paige’s. Sam was relieved to see that Paige possessed the skill to take the man down.

A man in a suit, a detective with the Kirk PD, stood across from them jotting notes on a small pad in his hand. As Sam approached, he heard Paige’s voice, calm and clear.

“And then I texted 911, Detective.”

She must have heard Sam approach. She looked away from the detective and up at Sam. Her hard, strong expression slipped, and her eyes filled with a need that made him close the distance to her faster.

“I’m McKade,” Sam said to the detective, barely giving him a chance to read Sam’s ID as he walked by him. Sam’s focus was Paige.

“Millhouse,” the detective said as Sam reached Paige.

The detective flipped his notepad closed, then said, “I’ll let you know if there’s anything else we need, Agent Carson.”

Sam registered Millhouse stepping toward the door, but he didn’t wait until the man had cleared the room. Not caring that they had an audience, Sam took Paige in his arms, needing her there as much as he needed his next breath. Despite the fact that he wanted to pound the guy who’d put his hands on Paige, Sam’s touch was gentle as he wrapped her in his arms. She melted against him as if the last of her strength was giving out, and he increased his hold.

She winced and he lightened his touch again. Tipping her chin back, he studied the bruise forming on her cheek. He fingered it lightly, his jaw clenching. But it wasn’t the bruise that was causing her the most discomfort. She was favoring her left side. “How badly are you hurt?”

“Not bad.”

Sam was not going to let her play this down. “Where Paige?” She touched her rib cage. “Have you been treated?”

“Soon.”

Sam had no intention of further delaying medical attention for her. He released her briefly and went to the door. He shouted for the medic, who was hovering nearby, then returned to her side.

Paige seized his arm and took a measured step away from him. “Not yet. Ivy.”

“I just saw her. She’s fine. I told her we’d be with her in a few minutes.”

Paige stopped walking. Sam wanted to hear from her what had taken place here tonight. He wanted to know about the man she’d subdued, specifically if he’d been sent by Thames. Sam would have all of those answers, but only after she’d received medical attention.

The medic entered the room. “Agent Carson?”

“Yes.”

“Can you sit on the bed please so I can take a look at you?”

Paige moved gingerly away from Sam and sat on the end of the bed.

Sam turned to Harry. “I’ll want to hear from you once Paige has been examined.”