Game of Fear (20 page)

The detective drummed his fingers on his pad. “What’s going on with you, Gabe? Dealing with snitches and Gasmerati? Not a good idea.”

John Garrison walked over. “Detective, may I have a word with Mr. Montgomery? Alone, please?”

Neil stared at the captain curiously, then nodded. He turned to Gabe. “I’ll check out those prints.”

“Thanks, Neil.”

As soon as the detective left, Garrison moved in.

“Get out of sight now,” Garrison said sharply. “Take Deb. I haven’t said anything, but we found a John Doe in the landfill, so this is the third body in the last week with Gasmerati’s calling card. But this time it was left at your house. I don’t like you standing out here, exposed, with all these people milling around. Too easy for a sniper to take you out. We’ll secure the premises.”

“You heard him,” Luke piled on. “Move it. We have some talking to do.”

Both Garrison and Luke were right. He had to get Deb out of sight. Too many people had seen them together. He should have forced her to return to her apartment.

Like he could force her to do anything. She was one stubborn woman.

And he liked that about her. Too much.

Gabe grabbed her hand and they quickly rounded his house to the side entrance, followed closely by Luke. “I’m sorry about this, Deb. I’ve put you in a bad position. They may have seen you.”

With a quick survey, Gabe slipped the key into the lock, pushed it open, then sent his brother a sidelong glance. “Look, I’m fine. But I need you to keep everyone else safe.”

Deb gasped and pulled a gun from the side pocket of her pants. “Don’t move!” she said sharply, peering into the darkened room.

Gabe whirled around, gun drawn.

A ghost stood in front of him, barely visible in the dark.

Steve Paretti. Former SWAT teammate. Former best friend. Lying, traitorous son of a bitch.

“You bastard. You’re dead.”

Gabe lunged across the room and slugged the dead man in the jaw.

Paretti didn’t fight back.

Luke grabbed his brother’s arms. “I get to kill him first. He shot at Jazz. She almost died because of him.”

Nick Montgomery, U.S. Marshal, stepped out from the shadows. “You can’t kill him, Luke. Paretti’s in protective custody.”

The hubbub across the street drew all the officers away. They wanted to check out the garish display on Montgomery’s porch.

Sheriff Tower smiled. Exactly as planned. All was still and quiet in the detention center, except for that idiot Menken.

Two of Tower’s loyal deputies accompanied Menken down the hall and into the holding area. Lights-out was hours ago. Security cameras had been deactivated. The town drunks had been given the night off from arrest for DUIs in an unfamiliar surge of leniency from the sheriff’s department.

Ernie Rattori’s hand had done its job. He’d have to thank Gasmerati sometime for agreeing to the donation.

Tower wanted no outside witnesses for what was to happen next. He and the deputies snapped on latex gloves and made their way down the corridor.

Menken was still yelling in his cell when the sound of their footsteps finally broke through to him. The deputy’s face had turned purple with rage, but Tower could see the panic as well. The man’s behavior fit perfectly into his plans.

“Good evening, Menken.”

The deputy lunged against the bars. “You’ve kept me locked up in this stinkin’ jail cell for hours and haven’t even let me call anyone. Didn’t even spring me, after all I’ve done for you. You owe me, Tower, and don’t you forget it. Now, get me out of here.”

“Certainly.” Tower unlocked the cell door, then tugged a belt from behind his back, holding it in his gloved hand. It was Menken’s belt, complete with fingerprints, and was already looped to use as a noose. “Officers, I believe our prisoner is depressed. How could we have forgotten to remove his belt? We shouldn’t be so careless. Bad things can happen when a man is suicidal.”

Menken howled and charged Tower. The other two officers grabbed him.

“Remember,” Tower said. “No unusual bruises.”

Menken started yelling and fighting, but the deputies took care of the rest.

Ten minutes later Tower stared at the hanging figure in disgust. How could the man have been so stupid? Jeopardizing everything.

“You’ll get out of jail all right, Menken,” he told the lifeless man. “Unfortunately, it will be in a body bag. Deputies, make sure there is no evidence left behind, then disappear. I’ll reestablish the security loop, then join the others at Montgomery’s house across the street.”

Without a last glance, Tower walked out.

Only a few stars twinkled in the frame of the small one-foot-by-four-inch window. Ashley huddled under the thin wool blanket and buried her head into the pillow. She could fight during the day, she could be like Deb. But at night—at night everything changed.

The moon had moved past her window. Lights-out.

A few coughs echoed through the corridors. A few sobs. Some male; some female. They were all in hell, and in the dark, there seemed to be no way out.

She couldn’t let it get to her. She had a plan. If only . . .

A metal door slammed closed. Footsteps pounded down the concrete hallways. One after the other. Closer and closer.

The boots thudded with the precision of a metronome.

Her chest tightened.
Please, go on. Please don’t find out.

They didn’t slow. They passed her room.

A tear squeezed out of the corner of her eye.

Then, the footsteps paused.

The clang of keys. A metal door creaked open.

“No. I didn’t do anything!” The boy’s high-pitched yell identified him at once. Geeky, tall kid with Buddy Holly glasses. Math genius. No name.

“Please, don’t take me.”

Ashley buried her head under her pillow. Was it her fault?

A loud, horrible scream sounded down the hall.

The large metal door opened again.

The footsteps came back.

Ashley’s pulse pounded in her ears. She squeezed her eyes tight.

The keys jangled and clinked.

Her door opened.

“Lansing,” a low voice whispered. “You’ve been a very bad girl.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

G
ABE CROSSED HIS
arms and faced
the man who at one time he would have trusted with his life.

“Maybe I’d better take off,” Deb said, backing to the door.

“Don’t leave, Ms. Lansing,” Nick Montgomery said.

He wore a U.S. Marshal badge, and while he appeared calm, Gabe could see the regret in his eyes.

“You’ve been seen with my brother,” Nick continued. “It’s not safe for you to leave alone until this operation has been closed, no matter how well you can defend yourself. Hopefully, Steve has the nails for Gasmerati’s coffin. He came out of hiding to help.”

“And to save Grace,” Paretti added. “I won’t let her take the fall for me.”

Gabe looked at his former friend. He couldn’t believe the man he’d known since childhood was standing here alive. He should be happy, but the betrayal cut too deep. “Why should I believe anything you say? You lied to me for years.”

“Steve had to in order to survive,” Nick cut in.

Gabe whirled on his brother. “And why should I trust you, brother?” He paced back and forth, thrusting his fingers through his hair. “You knew his betrayal was tearing me apart, Nick, but you hid the fact Paretti was alive—even from me.”

“Just like you hid the fact you’re running an undercover op in the bar from the whole family,” Nick snapped. “You can’t have it both ways, Gabe. Your secrets are okay, but no one else can have them? Life isn’t like that. Sometimes tough decisions have to be made.”

“So, I’m just supposed to throw my arms around this traitor and welcome him back into the good-guy fold? Not happening, bro.”

Nick bit out a curse. “Steve is in WITSEC and he’s my responsibility. He threw the protection agreement away to come here, because he refuses to stay hidden while the people he loves are threatened. I could lose my whole damn case against Jeff Gasmerati if something happens to Steve, so back off.”

“People he loves? Right.” Gabe lunged at Paretti and fisted his shirt at the collar. He brought them face-to-face. “Tell me the truth, asshole, are you a cop or a criminal?”

Paretti shoved Gabe back. “I’m a cop. I’ve always been a cop.” He clenched his fists, then suddenly, his shoulders sagged. “I hoped you’d understand eventually. The world isn’t always black and white when you’re undercover. Sometimes you have to do borderline things to stay alive and try to keep others that way, too.”

He looked over at Luke. “I’m sorry. I tried to keep you and Jazz out of it. Jeff wanted me to kill you.”

“You shot at us, Paretti. You almost killed Jazz.”

“I knew where I was aiming, Luke. I might not be a SWAT sniper, but I’m a close second to Jazz. I missed on purpose. I tried to scare you, to get you both to run. Or at least hide until things were safer. But you didn’t run.”

Steve glared at Gabe. “And you’re not running, either. Rumor has it that Jeff Gasmerati is dead set on taking you out.” Paretti gestured around the room. “Maybe all of you. What is it about Montgomerys and sheer stubborn stupidity? Why can’t you behave like a normal family and just leave.”

“Instead of telling us what we already know,” Gabe snapped, “tell us something that will help end this.” He clenched his fists. He wanted to punch something, anything.

Deb moved to Gabe’s side. She didn’t take his hand or even touch him, but just her presence cooled his temper a bit, like spring rain dousing a fire.

Paretti let out a sigh and looked over at Nick. Gabe’s brother nodded. “We’ve broken this many rules,” he said. “Go ahead.”

“I spent a couple months in a coma after getting shot,” Steve said. “And then time in recovery before I could start to piece together my memory. I knew something big was in the works before I was forced to disappear, but it’s hard to get info while you’re supposedly dead, especially when your bodyguard won’t let you so much as pee without watching.” He glared at Nick.

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Nick said.

“If that’s what you call hiding out like a coward.”

“I’m not hearing anything that will help my investigation . . . or find Deb’s sister,” Gabe snapped.

“Before I was shot in the head and shoved into WITSEC, I overheard bits and pieces about a couple of hush-hush construction projects Jeff Gasmerati had his hands on. Most having to do with tech and selling video games. Probably pirated, but I don’t know. My cousin was definitely part geek as a kid. He wanted to be the next computer whiz, but he never had the smarts.”

Deb clutched Gabe’s arm and leaned forward. “Did you hear any names mentioned? How about
Point of Entry
?”

An energy pulsed from Deb. Gabe studied his ex-friend. Could Jeff Gasmerati be involved with Ashley’s disappearance?

Paretti tapped his forehead as if forcing his mind to work. “I like
Point of Entry
. Good game,” Steve said, his brow furrowing. “But not that I remember. Most of the communication came in from some guy Jeff called the Warden. Right before things went south, there was a flurry of calls that he kept very private.”

Deb sagged in disappointment.

“Where were the construction projects?” Gabe asked.

“Winslow, Arizona, got a lot of mention. Another was in southern Nevada. The only other one I could place was the last job. In Idaho, Ohio, Ontario, or something. I can’t remember for sure.”

“Idaho?” Gabe looked at Luke. “Ernie mentioned Idaho. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“I’ll start following the money trail, looking for dummy companies or manufacturing sites Jeff may be connected with,” Luke offered.

“The FBI and the Marshals are both checking for the same things,” Nick said. “If I can find out anything, I’ll let you know.”

A loud, shrill sound split the night.

Everyone, including Deb, had a gun in their hands instantly.

“What the hell is that?” Nick yelled.

Gabe raced to the kitchen and yanked open the back door. “Alarm. Sammy’s is on fire. Call 9-1-1. Zach—Hawk!”

Gabe sprinted outside. Deb ran after him, while Luke picked up the phone.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe saw Nick close the door, shutting Paretti out of sight.

Licks of flames showed through the bar’s kitchen windows. The four of them raced across the icy parking lot. Just as they got within fifteen feet of the door, the bar exploded.

The other kids called it the punishment room. It was next to the infirmary. Not a good sign. Ashley stared around the plain gray walls and at the long metal table in the middle of the room, complete with stirrups and straps to bind someone, if needed.

They’d shoved her into one of two chairs in the room and left her there. Her feet were cold on the concrete floor. She rubbed her arms and shivered.

She’d never been taken here. She squeezed her eyes shut. God, had they found out what she’d done?

Her leg bounced, but she knew better than to get up.

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, this time, not the rubber of combat boots, but the click of dress shoes.

She remembered that from the latest version of the game.

A loud click of metal sounded and the solid door swung open. Ashley’s heart thudded against her chest.
Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

She blinked. Deb wouldn’t let these guys see her even break a sweat. Her sister was the most in-control person Ashley knew.

The Warden walked in, along with another man who didn’t look much older than her college friends. Both of them wore hospital clothes over street garb, evidently for protection.

From bloodstains? Ashley wondered.

Behind them came two guards who pushed Niko into the room in front of them. His left eye was swollen, his face bruised and bloody, but he didn’t look cowed. He wore the marks like badges of honor as he stood at the foot of the table.

The Warden took a file out and smiled. The grin made Ashley shiver.

Could blue eyes really be so dead that there appeared to be nothing behind them?

“So, Ashley Lansing, it seems we have a problem with your attitude. You insist on breaking the rules, no matter who gets hurt.”

“This time, Niko paid the price for talking to you too much. I have his word it won’t happen again. It better not. He’s out of chances. He was supposed to be monitoring your keystrokes, instead of giving you a guided tour of our facilities.”

A loud gulp sounded from her throat, and the man’s grin widened.

“So, you realize what you did.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “I don’t know why our most intelligent guests have to be taught the most difficult lessons. If you had just followed the rules . . .”

He slapped his hand against the door and a guard walked in with a tray of instruments.

Ashley’s eyes widened. Oh God. She’d watched enough television to know a scalpel when she saw it.

She swayed in her chair.

“Prepare her,” the man barked.

She jumped to her feet and headfirst barreled toward the open door. She shoved the cart out of her way, but Niko’s muscular arm grabbed her around the waist. She kicked and screamed, twisting her body against him, but he held her fast. His eyes indicating no emotion.

Tears streamed down her face. “No. Please, no!”

She yelled until her voice cracked, but it was no use. They stuffed a gag in her mouth and she bit around the sour-smelling cloth, nearly choking on it.

Moments later they wrestled her flat on the table, shackled her legs and arms to the frame, and cinched a leather strap across her waist.

The Warden and his medical assistant donned latex gloves and snapped the material against their skin. From behind him, an assistant walked in with a surgical gown.

The man slipped it on and a mask was tied over his mouth.

His ice-blue eyes stared down at her.

“Cut her gown off,” he barked.

They removed her top, leaving her breasts bare. He stared down at her nearly naked body. A tear squeezed out of the corner of her eye. Oh God. She wanted to curl up and die.

The assistant draped a blue cloth over her top half, a small hole cut in the side, then held up a syringe.

The Warden lifted his hand. “We won’t be needing anesthesia.”

He leaned over her, holding a scalpel that glittered under the lights. “You tried to leave the assigned area, Miss Lansing. You met with your little friend with the mop again. You thought you weren’t seen. Had you planned to meet him there? You two think you’re so very smart, but you’re actually only arrogant. Don’t you know we are always watching? Floyd didn’t escape and neither will you.”

He stabbed the scalpel into her side.

Ashley lurched up from the table, trying to get away from the knife, the searing pain. Blood ran down the side of her ribs. The gag muffled her screams, but tears ran down her cheeks.

“Hold her,” the man muttered. “I don’t want any mistakes. I want this buried deep.”

He pulled a small chip from inside a vial.

She couldn’t see what he did with it, but a moment later he held up a long pair of forceps.

No! She couldn’t yell around the gag, couldn’t get any air. In her panic, her breathing started to grow laborious.

Her eyes grew wide.

The Warden bent over her and jammed a probe into the gash.

Her chest heaved and bile rose in her throat.

They ignored her.

If she threw up, she was going to die.

The Warden poked and pulled. She couldn’t stop the tears running down her face.

Sour burning erupted from her throat and she lurched again.

One last painful tug. “Oh for God’s sake. Take the gag out before she asphyxiates.”

The Warden rubbed something on her skin and placed a bandage on her wound. Then he tore off his mask and pulled out a file.

He held out photos in front of Ashley.

Deb. Walking into a bar. Going to work. Unlocking her apartment door.

“We’ll know your location every minute of every day, Ashley. You make one move out of line, you try to escape or hack our system one more time, and your sister dies.” He snapped off his gloves.

She lay there, panting. In too much pain to talk.

“Niko, do you have any words of advice for your friend?”

Niko’s words were cold and hard. “Don’t screw with us, Ashley. Do your job, and you might get out of here alive. One more mistake, and your sister will never know what happened to you, if she’s alive to still wonder.”

“Ahhh, it’s nice to know the real Niko is back.”

The Warden turned to the other guards. “Take her to her room. If she resists . . .” He smiled. “Actually, I don’t think she’s stupid enough to do that again.”