Off the Grid (A Gerrit O'Rourke Novel) (49 page)

He tightened his jaw, clenching his hand into a fist. “Beck, I need a lift back to Seattle. And send word to Joe I know who killed my folks. Now, I’m going to get some answers.”

Beck hesitated. “Gerrit, let me do my job. I can bring this suspect in the right way. Who is it?”

“Forget it, Malloy.” Gerrit glared at him. “Your people won’t get anywhere near this person. Too protected, and he’ll wind up dead before you ever find out what he has to say. Let me do it my way.”

Alena grasped his arm. “Let me come with you.”

He shook his head, taking her hand in his. “Not this time. I need to do this alone, face-to-face. Otherwise, I’ll never get the truth.”

She sighed. “Be careful.” Leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek. Her kiss seemed to soften the anger he felt building inside, at least for a moment.

He glanced at Beck. “I promise you I will do everything in my power to bring this person in. Trust me.”

Beck frowned as he studied Gerrit. “Okay, but we’ll be nearby as backup. Just in case.”

“Bring a coroner if things go sideways.” Gerrit looked back at the computer screen one last time. “If he so much as twitches the wrong way, I’m putting him down—for good.”

Beck grimaced. “That doesn’t exactly inspire trust.”

Gerrit shrugged. “It won’t be up to me, Malloy. It’ll be his call.”
Just give me an excuse.
His gaze met the agent’s, and he knew Malloy could read his mind.

Beck walked away without saying a word.

Seattle, Washington

A
ll the tiredness in his body seemed to slip away after Stuart’s call. His mind whirled with possibilities as he trudged up a moss-covered walkway leading to his house. The modest, single-story residence was all his ex-wife left after the divorce, after he refinanced and bought out her share. She would get half his pension upon retirement and already squandered all their savings as well as receiving full custody of the children.

His last child-support payment would end next summer when the youngest turned eighteen. However, alimony to his ex would continue until the day he died or she found a new husband who might be able to afford her expensive tastes.

That was all right. The call from Stuart tonight meant his future was about to drastically change. No more bargain-basement suits. No more cars older than his dad. No more meals at budget diners, or cold TV dinners in front of the television. He was about to take a sweet ride into the big time.

Travel. Money. Prestige.

All this from one single phone call telling him he would become Kane’s replacement. Kane made one fatal mistake tonight. And even if he had escaped that lab, Stuart was sure to end Kane’s life.

Such mistakes were not tolerated by Stuart and his people. A sobering thought he would take into account in his new life. In fact, he had taken care of some of the bodies after Stuart exacted punishment.

Dawn was only a few hours away. He’d slip inside, get a few hours’ sleep, and then start planning for his new future. The first thing would be to dump this house. He unlocked and opened the door, then stepped inside and threw his coat on the rack near the doorway. He flicked on the light and turned to walk into the living room.

“Lieutenant Stan Cromwell. Your career ends tonight.”

Stan whirled around and started to reach for his weapon.

Gerrit O’Rourke leveled his .40 S&W at Stan’s chest. “Go ahead. Make a move. I always wanted to waste the man who killed my parents.”

He froze and held out his hands. “Gerrit, my boy. Always too smart for your own good.”

Gerrit rose from the chair. “And you’re a dirty cop. Sold your badge for a few pieces of silver.”

Stan caught the fury in Gerrit’s eyes. All the excitement and hope he felt—after talking with Stuart about the future—just blew up in his face. Gerrit wouldn’t let him leave this house alive.

The moment Cromwell came through the door, Gerrit knew it would be a battle to keep his promise to Beck. All he wanted to do right now was put a bullet into this man’s skull. To end this killer’s existence.

His trigger finger tightened as temptation grew stronger. His mind replayed those crime-scene videos of what was left of his mom and dad. Every scene, every frame, seared into Gerrit’s soul, imprinted onto his memory forever. It would only take a slight squeeze to end Cromwell’s life.

A blinding wave of anger swept over him. A tsunami urging him to squeeze that trigger. His finger began to tighten. Then, like a storm moving toward the horizon, his anger dissipated, leaving almost a feeling of peace in its wake. The faces of Joe and Alena passed before his eyes. For the first time, he realized he was no longer alone. That life offered more than revenge. Life—with all its aches and pains, disappointments and injustices—also offered a glimmer of hope. Killing this man, right now, might erase any chance Gerrit had of moving forward. Of freeing himself from the past. He relaxed his finger.

“Take your gun out, butt first. Left hand, two fingers, and slowly lower it to the floor.”

Cromwell studied him, probably debating whether to make a move. Slowly, the lieutenant reached over to his right side, unfastened the weapon, and followed Gerrit’s orders.

Cromwell straightened, hands raised in the air.

“Now, your backup. Slowly, drop it on the floor.”

The man raised his pant leg, revealing the holstered weapon strapped to his right leg. The lieutenant carefully withdrew the weapon and placed it near the other weapon.

“Now, take a seat. We need to talk.” Gerrit motioned with his gun toward the chair opposite him.

Settling in, Cromwell stared back. “What now, Gerrit? You gonna shoot me?”

“I’d like nothing better than to end your miserable life. But I’ve made a promise. And I intend to keep it.”

Cromwell smirked. “Better be careful what you promise, boy.”

“You promised to uphold the law. To protect and serve. But you turned out to be a man without honor, Cromwell.”

The lieutenant shrugged. “Spare me the platitudes. Look what it got you. Running and hiding for the rest of your life. If you just listened to Kane, you could have had it all. And now?”

“Now you’re going on trial for murder that carries the death penalty.”

An incredulous look crossed Cromwell’s face. “You think all this will get to trial? People with too much to lose will stop you in your tracks. You and me are dead men walking. And they’ll go about their business as if none of this happened.”

“Did you trigger the bomb or have someone else do the dirty work?”

Cromwell frowned at him for a moment. “You mean your folks?” He shook his head, his lips pressed together tight. “Man, that was a tough call. I’m sorry, O’Rourke. Nothing personal. I didn’t even know them—or you—at the time.”

“Doesn’t matter whether you knew them or not. You blew them up. For what? Money? Power? To change the world? What kind of excuse did you come up with?”

Cromwell looked at the ground, then raised his head, staring directly at Gerrit. “It was simply business. I got hooked up with some very powerful people. Big enough that they can make your life either really good or really bad. I learned very quickly that you never turn these folks down. Not if you want to keep breathing.”

“And Mark and Marilynn? Are they your handiwork, too?”

“No. Kane farmed that out to others. You were the only one I was responsible to take out.”

“And my parents. So all these years, you were checking up on me, making sure I never got close to the truth.”

Cromwell shook his head, laughing. “I told Kane you’d be trouble. I knew you would never give up. I told him I should just put you in the ground, but he wanted to wait, to see if you might be recruited. He didn’t want to raise any more flags after the death of your folks and the disappearance of your uncle. One more death in the family—particularly a military hero and cop to boot—would be too much for the feds to ignore.”

“What crossed your mind when you triggered that bomb? When you thought you’d killed me?”

Cromwell just shrugged. Then a steely look crept into his eyes. “Like I said, it was just business, Gerrit. Nothing personal. You just got in the way.”

Gerrit rose from the chair. “So how did you think this would end up?”

Smirking, the lieutenant cocked his head to one side. “I’m just a soldier, Gerrit. Just like you. I don’t give a flying leap where this all leads. It was just a good move on my part—until now.” He eyed the gun pointed at his chest. “So, you are going to turn me in?”

“Since I promised not to shoot you—” Gerrit’s cell phone vibrated. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled it out. Willy sent a text message. Gerrit tapped the screen until the message emerged.

GET OUT NOW! BOMB!

Gerrit hesitated for a moment, then raced across the room and scooped up Cromwell’s weapons. “We have to get out of here right now.”

The lieutenant folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

“No time. Move now!”

Cromwell shook his head. “I run out there and someone shoots me. No thanks.”

Gerrit dashed toward the door. “Suit yourself. There’s a bomb about to make matchsticks out of your house. I’m history.” He flung the door open and raced down the walkway.

He reached the sidewalk a moment before the ground shook. A blast hit him like a giant fist, flinging him into the street with one blow. The concussion from the blast swept past. His ears felt like he’d just dived hundreds of yards underwater as the pressure threatened to snatch his hearing forever.

He almost blacked out. Dazed, he felt hands lifting him from the ground. Looking up, he saw Alena, her arms under him as she tried to raise him up. The ringing in his ears kept out all other noise. He knew she was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear.

Alena looked around frantically. Her lips moved as if she might be yelling or screaming. It finally registered.

I am deaf
.

T
he first thing Gerrit saw when he awoke again in the hospital was Alena’s soft brown eyes. It seemed like only minutes since he’d closed his own eyes after doctors got through poking and prodding, writing out terms like
perforated eardrum
and
back to normal in months
. Sound began to return, slowly and steadily. Once he knew his hearing would return, he laid back and drifted off to sleep.

Now, afternoon light filtered through a stand of fir trees outside the hospital window. Alena’s concerned look softened and a smile brightened her face. “You’ve got to stop this, Gerrit. What is it with you and bombs?”

A shadow fell across them. Jack Thompson leaned over. “Yeah, boy. You really scrambled your brains this time. At least what brains you had left.” Beyond the colonel, Willy and Beck Malloy hovered.

Gerrit looked from one face to the other. “What happened? All I remember is Cromwell’s house blowing up.”

Beck edged closer to the bed. “We sent a forensic team in there, along with ATF. The house was rigged to blow before you or Cromwell ever got there. Someone used a cell phone to trigger it. I guess they thought you and Cromwell would be caught inside when it blew.”

“You think they were targeting me, too?”

The FBI agent shrugged. “Who knows? They definitely wanted to take out Cromwell. Guess they thought he had become too much of a liability. When you came along, they probably thought you’d be a bonus. One less thing to worry about later.”

Gerrit looked over at Willy, still clutching his laptop. “How did you know they were going to blow it up?”

Willy cocked his head to one side. “Your lieutenant was a security freak. Had a surveillance-camera system set up around the place. Once you went into Cromwell’s house to wait for him, I got bored and hacked into his system just for the heck of it. It was set up on a wireless system, easy as pie to break. Played back the security tapes for the last twenty-four hours and watched them rig the place with explosives. Cromwell failed to check them himself.”

“You saved my life, Willy.” Gerrit held out his hand in gratitude. “Think you can work some magic on those keys and tell us who is behind this?”