Hot Pursuit (37 page)

Chapter Forty-one

When T.J. McCall walked into the casita, his face could have been cut from granite. “You found something, I take it?”

Jack nodded. “It's been contained. We've put L.Z through the whole building and he has indicated no sign of contamination, so I believe we're safe.” Jack was wearing his last pair of blue jeans and a flannel shirt. “Izzy is on his way now, and he's carrying equipment to verify any possibility of contamination.”

T.J. walked through the room, frowning. “Can you tell me the nature of the material involved?”

“I'm afraid not, Sheriff.”

T.J. didn't look particularly happy, but he nodded. “What do you need from me?”

“Izzy will be landing at these coordinates.”

The sheriff scanned the numbers Jack handed him. “I'll leave right now. That's about ten minutes away.”

“No need. He'll be met.”

The sheriff's brow rose. “In Almost?”

“The man has contacts everywhere,” Jack said dryly. “But until he leaves, security will be tight. Do you have two or three extra men to guard the ranch?”

McCall scratched his jaw. “I'll make the calls and have them here before the chopper lands.” He glanced through the window toward the north. “One of them should be here before I call. I swear the man can read minds.”

There was a movement behind him in the doorway. Jack went for his Beretta, but McCall stepped in front of him. “No need for a gun. This is Miguel, the man I told you about.”

Jack dropped his arm, but didn't holster his gun.

The man in the doorway wore only black, broken by a heavy silver buckle at his waist. Darkness seemed to cling to his long hair as he measured the room in silence, then nodded at Sheriff McCall. “You need me.”

It wasn't a question, Taylor noticed. Who was this old man who carried such an aura of power around him?

“We do, Miguel. I appreciate your coming, though how you knew is beyond me.”

The old man laughed, and the sound reminded Taylor of sand spilling over dry stones. “I see what I see.” He turned, his head cocked. “Lightning coming, up near the mesa.” His eyes seemed to narrow as he listened to the night.

Taylor heard only the sigh of the wind through the mesquite trees.

“Chopper. Coming in from Black Mesa.”

Jack looked skeptical, but a moment later they heard the distant drone of spinning blades.

“Damn,” Jack muttered.

T.J. McCall was watching his friend. “Go on, Miguel. What else?”

“Trouble. You and your friends need to know this, Sheriff.” He fingered the small canvas bag at his shoulder and Taylor caught the sent of sage and rosemary. “More and more trouble coming after that.” Standing motionless, he seemed part of the night, an illusion created from shadows, all darkness except for the silver buckle which gleamed at his waist.

Cold as moonlight.

Taylor heard a low whine. L.Z. trotted past her, then sat at the old man's feet, waiting alertly.

Miguel spoke several soft words in a language Taylor didn't understand, and the dog barked once, his ears pricking forward. “No need to worry about others,” Miguel said without looking up. “Only the chopper. No one has followed them.”

McCall nodded. “I appreciate the heads-up, Miguel.”

Jack was frowning when the drone of the helicopter vanished abruptly, and they heard a car from the north, coming fast.

 

Izzy lifted a big aluminum case and stepped out of the dusty Bronco, looking more tired than Taylor had ever seen him. He gave a quick wave to the driver, who sat back to wait without a word.

There were no preliminaries. “Where's the item we discussed?”

“Inside the house,” Jack said. “Secured the way you described.”

“Show me.” Izzy looked at the sheriff. “I'll meet you shortly and fill you in, T.J.”

Which meant that he and the others were being dismissed, Taylor realized. Higher security issues were at stake.

The sheriff nodded. He and Miguel strode back to the main house through the darkness. When Izzy called to L.Z., the dog barked excitedly, nosing against Izzy's hands.

“Hey, there, buddy. I think you just bought yourself major job security.” He laughed as the big dog jumped up and tried to lick his face. “Taylor, I'll need to talk with you after Jack and I are done.” He rubbed his neck. “And I've got to tell you that some coffee would be worth a million dollars about then.”

“I'll get it going.”

Taylor went out to the kitchen, glad for a distraction. With the coffee brewing, she sank into a chair by the window and rubbed her face.

At least now they knew why she was so popular. The man following them in Monterey had been looking for the tiny metal container Rains had hidden in her purse.

She sat up suddenly.

The convenience store. Rains had been standing a few feet away when the pregnant woman fainted, knocking down the display of soda cans. After that had come the altercation with the store clerk, and during that time Rains had been crouched behind the big plastic garbage can. He would have had time to grab her purse, insert the metal piece into one of the seams, then toss the purse across the floor before anyone noticed.

Risky, but not entirely stupid.

And in her panic, it was unlikely she would notice the ordinary paper-wrapped package or cheap plastic pen. Certainly not the piece of metal shoved deep into one of the purse's inside seams.

Low voices echoed down the hall and L.Z. barked once. Taylor prayed that the toxin was completely contained, without harm to Jack.

She glanced at the kitchen counter, remembering the stormy encounter that had taken place there only a few hours before. Events had moved too fast for her to sort through her tangled emotions, but one thing was clear. She loved this man who had touched her and given her such pleasure. She loved his quiet strength and steely determination, which at first had struck her as sheer, pigheaded arrogance. She loved the granite sense of honor he could never hide.

But love didn't make Taylor blind. They were an impossible match—by temperament, training, and profession. What kind of future could they have, assuming that Jack was even thinking of a future that involved her?

Taylor closed her eyes, stunned to realize just how much the SEAL was figuring in her own plans. He had stormed into her life, fed her world-class lasagna, sweet-talked her into trusting him, and now . . .

Now she had given him her heart.

She sighed and got up, setting out coffee cups and making sandwiches.
Don't think about tomorrow,
she told herself grimly.
Today is complicated enough
.

She smiled when L.Z. bounded into the room, looking supremely pleased with himself. “Did you do more good work?” The big dog barked once, then shot back to the door as Izzy and Jack emerged. Taylor noticed Izzy wasn't carrying the aluminum case now.

“All taken care of,” Izzy said. “Everything here looks clean, I'm happy to say. Sorry that I have to take your purse, but if it passes inspection, you'll get it back.”

“You're leaving again?”

“As soon as I discuss a few things with Jack and T.J.”

Taylor handed coffee to both men, unsurprised by the announcement. She had expected Izzy to make a fast turnaround, given the crucial nature of the discovery. “Still no news about Rains?”

Izzy turned his cup slowly. “The man seems to have vanished. The Feds are dealing with that, since he was their primary responsibility, but I suspect when we find the Albanian we'll find Rains.”

Taylor handed out the sandwiches. “So I'm still in danger.”

“I'm afraid so. We'd like you to stay here for the moment. The sheriff has offered the use of his house for as long as necessary.” He glanced at Jack, who nodded.

Taylor stared from one man to the other. “What's wrong?”

Izzy sat down beside her at the table. “I've got some bad news.”

“Not Annie.” Taylor shot to her feet. “She isn't—”

“Annie's fine.” Izzy took her hand and pulled her back into her chair, frowning.

“Then
what?
Nothing's happened to Sam or Mrs. Pulaski, has it?”

“It's Candace.” Jack was standing beside her, one hand on her shoulder.

Why were they so grave? Taylor wondered. Why so quiet?

“Candace was found in her apartment several hours ago,” Jack said. “She was badly beaten.”

Taylor closed her eyes, stricken. “How?”

“Some of her climbing friends saw her leave a bar with a stranger. When she didn't check in for a class at the gym, one of them dropped by her apartment. She was unconscious, in bad shape.”

Taylor gripped the table blindly. “I have to see her. Which hospital, Jack? I need to go now.”

Jack's callused hand tightened on her shoulder.

“There's more?” She stared up at him, her whole body going cold. “Oh, God, please no.”

“I'm sorry, honey.” Jack's voice was gentle. “She didn't make it out of surgery.”

Taylor hunched over, shaking her head. It couldn't be true. Not Candace.

Dead.

“I don't believe it.” Her voice shook. “It must be a mistake. She couldn't—”

“There's no mistake.” Jack pulled her into his arms. “One of her friends ID'd the body.”

“I don't—I have to—” Taylor swayed, forcing herself to drag in a breath. “The funeral. I have to go. She'd want that.” Silence stretched out. Taylor's heart pounded as she rubbed away tears. “When is the funeral?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Izzy said quietly.

She eased out of Jack's arms. “I have time. I can go back in the helicopter.” She stopped, looking at Jack. “Why aren't you saying anything?”

Jack's eyes held only regret.

“Because you can't go, Taylor.” Izzy's voice was firm. “They'll have people watching the funeral. You're their last link now, remember?”

Taylor took a step back, carefully removing herself from all contact with Jack. “You think that matters to me? My friend is
dead
. She'll never belay another rope, never struggle up another cliff. Maybe she was involved, maybe she wasn't, but I couldn't help her, not when she needed it most. Yet I can stand by her grave tomorrow. I can be there to remember her when they—when she's put into the ground to rest.”

“Don't talk like that.” Jack started toward her, but she took another step back, her body shaking.

“I have to talk like this. She had no family and only a few friends. She needed my help, but it wasn't enough.” Taylor took a raw breath. Rage, grief, remorse churned through her, but none of them mattered.

What mattered was that her friend was dead.

“I'll do what you want afterward. Anything,” she continued hoarsely. “I'll go hide in a monastery in Tibet for a year, if you want. But I'll be there for Candace first.” Her chin rose, even as the tears came again. “You'll have to lock me up if you plan to prevent that.”

Izzy muttered a curse. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it could be?”

“You'll be certain to tell me.”

“Damn it, Taylor, this isn't a joke.” Jack was behind her. She could almost feel the anger—and the fear—pour off him in waves. “They're bound to send people. They
want
you.”

She looked at him with stony eyes. “Then see that they don't get me. It's your job, right? From the start, I was your job. It's time we both remembered that.”

“You'd endanger yourself for a whim?” he growled.

“Not a whim.” She made a slashing gesture in the air. “I'll be present to offer my respects to a woman who shouldn't be gone. And I'll be there to say good-bye, so she won't be lowered into the cold earth alone, without as many of her friends as possible.”

Izzy crossed his arms. “I'd have to get permission.”

“Then get it,” Taylor snapped.

“You can't be serious.” Jack whirled around, glaring at Izzy. “You can't possibly believe that this makes sense.”

Izzy's face was unreadable. “She's not a prisoner, Jack. She has committed no crime. Admiral Braden suspected this situation might arise. Like it or not, I'll have to relay her request.”

Jack muttered a short, graphic phrase.

“It's not a request,” Taylor said flatly. “I'm going, one way or another. After that—” She shrugged. “I'll do whatever, whenever.” She stood tensely, avoiding Jack's eyes, feeling too much pain to risk a glance that might make her resolve waver, even for a second.

Later. Not today. Not before she'd sent off her friend.

“This is crazy,” Jack said harshly. “No, it's criminal. You both know that.”

When he had no answer, he strode outside, and the front door banged hard.

“He's right,” Izzy said quietly. “This is nothing short of insane.”