Dead Even (24 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE

It was just barely dusk when Will stopped in front of the driveway at 1733 Hillcrest Road and turned off the engine.

“This is the house?” he asked, leaning forward slightly to take a look.

“Yes. And there’s Aidan, back near the garage. Doesn’t look as if much is happening right now,” Miranda observed. “At least not outside. Inside, I’ll bet there’s plenty going on. I wonder how Mara’s doing with Julianne.”

“I’ll bet it’s pretty tense all the way around. And on top of everything, here come the Feds to lay a trap for her daddy. I hate using a kid for bait.” He shook his head as he pocketed the keys.

“So does everyone else, but no one could come up with a better way to lure Jules close enough to pick him up. Besides, those were the orders.” Miranda unsnapped her seat belt and opened her car door. “Let’s hope this goes quickly and quietly.”

“Hey, guys.” Aidan walked down the drive to meet them.

“What’s going on?” Will asked.

“Nothing yet. Rob Flynn got here just before you did. He’s next door changing into what he calls his nighttime surveillance attire. He takes that all-black thing real seriously. The old lady there has offered us the use of her house for as long as we’re camped out here. She’s real close to Mara, and she has had nothing good to say about Jules, so she’s been great about letting us set up in there.” Aidan turned to Will. “Go ahead and pull your car in the drive there behind Flynn’s. That way, if—when—Jules shows up, there won’t be this cluster of vehicles around Mara’s house. We don’t want to scare him away.”

“Won’t he expect to find someone watching the house?” Mara asked. “He can’t possibly be stupid enough to think that we’d leave Julianne here without a watchdog.”

“Tough to know what he’s thinking. Keep in mind, he doesn’t know who was sent in to bring her out. For all he knows, it could have been a private investigator, someone hired by Mara. I don’t know what he’ll expect to find when he gets here. But I do expect him to get here as quickly as he can.”

“Do you think he’ll have help from some of the reverend’s security staff?” Mara wondered.

“He’s traveling alone. We already know that much,” Aidan told them. “He was tracked to the airport, but he managed to slip past our guy out there. Looks like Prescott loaned him one of his private planes for the trip. What’s that tell you?”

“That Prescott wants the girl back pronto, before she gets to talk too much about what’s going on out there.” Will nodded.

“That’s my feeling, too. Now, we know he’ll be headed this way, but there are so many airports within a few hours’ drive of here, it’s tough to know where he’ll be landing. We’re trying to determine where the plane will have clearance to land. We just don’t have as many agents available for this job as we could use, so we’re going to have to be ready for just about anything at any time.”

Will started toward the car to move it into the driveway next door, pausing near the back of the sedan as a black pickup passed by. He watched it speed up, then proceeded to pull the car into the drive. He was on the phone when he returned to where Aidan and Miranda were still in conversation. He snapped the phone closed and dropped it into his pocket.

“So what’s the plan here, Aidan?” he asked as he joined them.

“During the day, two outside. Once Julianne goes to bed at night, there will be two agents inside, two outside. During the day, we’ll be taking turns grabbing what sleep we can on the sofa next door at Mrs. West’s. She also has one of those air mattress things that she made up in her den for someone to catch a few winks on.”

“Nice of her,” Miranda said, recalling the small, white-haired woman she’d met on previous visits to Mara’s house.

“Very,” Aidan agreed. “Sleeping in the car gets real old real fast.”

“I hope we can wrap this up before Halloween.” Miranda watched several children run up the front walk of the house across the street. “I’d hate to see this play out with the sidewalks filled with little trick-or-treaters.”

“Not to mention big trick-or-treaters,” Aidan said thoughtfully. “You never know who’s behind those masks. You could have someone like Jules slip right in with a crowd of teenage boys, and who’d know the difference if everyone was wearing a mask.”

“Great. Something else to worry about.” Will grimaced.

“Just hope Jules moves tonight or tomorrow night, then we won’t have to deal with the Halloween crowd. That could be really dicey.” Aidan didn’t really want to think about just how dicey things could get if Mara opened the door to a masked Jules.

“So, I take it Julianne doesn’t know any of this is going on?” Miranda nodded in the direction of the house.

“Annie thought it would be a good idea if she didn’t. Her bedroom is on the other side of the house, so she won’t see us if she looks out the window,” Aidan explained.

“Doesn’t that leave the other side of the house unguarded?” Will walked toward the back gate to look over the yard.

“Only during the day, but there are no doors on that side of the house, and few windows, all of which are locked and alarmed,” Aidan pointed out. “Plus, keep in mind that because of the fence across there, anyone wanting to approach the house from the back has to go through Mrs. West’s backyard. There’s no way to sneak across the yard without being seen during the day. At night, we’ll be keeping an eye on the house from inside and out. I don’t think Jules will be able to get too close.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.” Miranda glanced at her watch. “Who will Julianne think we are if she sees us during the day? And hasn’t she seen you out here? Who does she think you are?”

“She’ll be told that you and Will are new neighbors, if she asks,” Aidan said. “She already knows that I’m a friend of her mother’s.”

“Does she know how good a friend?” Miranda asked.

“Not yet. We thought we needed to go real slow on that. Let her get used to the idea that her mother is still alive, that she’s back home, all that.”

“That going to be hard on you?” Will asked.

“Not as hard as it will be on Mara and Julianne,” Aidan told him.

“It’s starting to get dark,” Miranda noted. “Where do you suppose Flynn is?”

“He mentioned something about throwing a frozen pizza in the oven. Have you ever known him to show up for a stakeout without enough food to take him—and the rest of us—through a long siege?” Will said. “He arrived with a couple of grocery bags under his arm, so I’m guessing he stocked up.”

“Ah, that Rob. Always plans ahead.” Miranda turned to Aidan. “Is the house next door open? I’d like to change my clothes and be ready to take my place once it’s dark.”

“The back door is open; you can go right on in,” Aidan told her. “Annie’s supposed to let us know when Julianne has gone to bed for the night, then we’ll move you and Will inside until dawn. One of you will watch the front of the house, one the back. Rob will be in Mrs. West’s backyard, I’ll take the outside of Mara’s house, side and front.”

“Will, I need to open the trunk to get my bag out.” Miranda held up her hand, and Will tossed the keys. She snatched them out of the air.

“I won’t be more than five, ten minutes,” she told him as she started off toward the trunk of the car. “With any luck, Rob has a couple of greasy pepperoni pizzas in the oven and some strawberry ice cream in the freezer.”

“The pizza’s a definite, but I wouldn’t count on the ice cream,” Aidan called to her.

“Oh, I’ve worked with Rob before,” Miranda called back over her shoulder. “He knows how to keep a girl happy.”

Rob Flynn did, indeed, know how to keep Miranda Cahill happy. He brought enough strawberry ice cream, frozen pizza, diet Pepsi, and black licorice to keep a smile on her face for the next week. At ten-thirty that night, she was sitting on the floor outside Mara’s den, her Sig Sauer on one hip, her walkie-talkie on the other, and a strand of licorice dangling from the corner of her mouth. She propped her back against the wall and twirled the licorice between her lips. She had a clear view of the back door, the deck, and, if she stood, the area around the garage, though that was in shadow now. She wondered how long it would be before Jules Douglas showed up.

She was in complete agreement with Aidan and whoever else had orchestrated this stakeout—probably John, she thought idly. John liked tidy, and this particular scene was tidy. No superfluous personnel. Not that they had agents to spare these days. More and more of the new agents, and plenty of the established ones, were signing up for the terrorist division, like Portia had.

Portia had tried to talk Miranda into joining with her, but Miranda had never had a feel for the work. This was what she knew, what she liked. She did best in situations where she knew the players, knew what the stakes were. Those tracking the terrorists played a different game, one Miranda wasn’t sure she understood. Portia, however, loved the excitement, the intrigue, the whole chasing-across-continents thing as much as she loved hunkering down in dusty caves with her brothers in arms. Miranda shook her head. For identical twins, they couldn’t be less alike.

She chewed up the last of the licorice and thought about Portia meeting up with Jack in England. She was certain they had. She just couldn’t decide how she felt about it.

And then there was Will. She was pretty sure she knew how she felt about him. As soon as this watch was over, as soon as they had Jules Douglas behind bars, she and Will were going to take a long weekend. Maybe at the Fleming Inn, maybe at the beach someplace. Aidan lived near the beach. Maybe he could suggest an inn. Then again, it was pretty cold for the beach.

Will had been quick to see the parallels between their relationship and that of her mother and father. She’d recognized the similarities herself, of course, but had refused to acknowledge them. Once she had acknowledged them, she’d have to deal with them. In order to do that, she’d have to put a name to her feelings. She’d never been able to do that.

Will, however, had been far less reluctant.

“I’m falling in love with you.”

Yes, well, that certainly put a name to it. How like him to just throw it out there.

How like her to wish he hadn’t.

Well, it was there now, like it or not, and she’d have to deal with it. With Will.

Static crackled from the walkie-talkie.

“All quiet back there?” Will asked from his post in the living room.

“All quiet.”

“So, whatcha doing?”

“Thinking about what we’re going to be doing when this is over.”

“Can you be more specific?”

Static crackled at her again.

“Will?” she asked.

“Hold up.”

“Will?” she repeated after several minutes had passed.

“False alarm. I think. I thought I saw something . . . never mind, it’s Rob.”

“The static is about to make me deaf,” she complained. “I’m turning this damn thing off now. I’ll check back with you in a few, see if it’s any better.”

She slipped the walkie-talkie back onto her belt, then stood up and walked to the back door. She peered out across the deck. There was a scant slice of moonlight that fell across one side of the yard. She looked skyward and saw clouds move across the face of the moon. Nothing else moved. For now, all was quiet.

The clock on the mantel in the living room chimed four. A few more hours and she’d be able to catch a little sleep. She went back to her post outside the door to Mara’s den and slid down the wall until she was seated again. She knew it was unlikely that Jules would have shown up so soon. Tomorrow would be the more likely night for him to make his move. Even if he had managed to make it into the area tonight, he’d be studying the lay of the land. Looking for security. Trying to figure out the best way to strike.

No, it would be tomorrow night at the earliest, the next night at the latest. It hardly mattered which. Either way, they’d still be waiting for him.

She pulled another piece of licorice out of her back pocket and began to chew on it, wondering why she felt less afraid of facing Jules than she did of loving Will.

Burt Connolly lay on his stomach in the damp, cold grass under Helene West’s grapevine and tried to figure out what was going on.

He’d been watching for the past few hours, and couldn’t figure out which of the two houses Miranda Cahill was in. He’d thought it was the little bungalow there across the yard, but then he’d seen her come out of the house next door and go inside here with the other agent, the big guy. Then some other guy showed up, and the big one left for a while, then came back. Burt had meanwhile backed into the shelter of the grape arbor to hide himself, and he wasn’t certain that she hadn’t come back out again.

What the fuck was going on around here? What’s up with the house next door, anyway?

Well, it was a riddle he wasn’t going to be solving for a while, since the sun would be up in another few minutes and he couldn’t very well be caught in the yard there. He eased himself out from under the thick woody vines, using his elbows to propel himself backward to the end of the garage. He raised himself to his knees and crawled along the fence to the place where he’d cut an opening a few hours earlier. He’d found a motel about four blocks away, one street in from the highway, and he’d left the truck there. He hadn’t liked the way the big guy had stopped to stare at the truck when he’d driven past earlier. Probably hadn’t meant much of anything, but still, you never knew with these FBI types. For all Burt knew, the big guy had already called in the license plate. Not that that would tell him anything. He wouldn’t know Burt from Adam. He certainly would never be able to put Burt together with Archer.

In the shadows of early morning, he brushed off the dirt as best he could, then crept across another yard, wondering if Archer’s body had been found yet. He knew a momentary bit of uncertainty, then shook it off. No one knew he had been with Archer, with the exception of Vince Giordano. And there wasn’t much he was going to say about it, since this whole killing thing was his idea. No one could connect him to any of the murders, except Vince. That would implicate Vince, too, wouldn’t it? Sure it would. Conspiracy and all that. Nah, he needn’t worry about Vince.