Silent Pursuit (14 page)

I
an saw shock blanch Gina's features white. She yelled, “Ian, stop! It's Mr. Carswell.”

He snapped the pistol up and away from the man's head. “Who are you?”

Bravado tried to overcome the fear on the weathered face without much success. “Jesse Carswell. I'm taking care of the place.”

“Why?”

“Because Mr. Anthony paid me to do so.”

Gina stepped forward. “When did he set that up?”

“A couple of months before his grandmother died. She was real sick and couldn't keep the place up. So he set up arrangements for me to come in and do it on a regular basis.”

“And you've continued to do it without getting paid?”

The man gave a phlegmy chuckle. “No, I still get paid. Or I will through the end of the year. After that,” he shrugged, “I don't know.”

“You do know that Mario…um…died, don't you?”

He flinched. “Yeah, I'd heard that, but the money keeps getting deposited into my account each month, and I figured
someone would be back one day to do something with the place, so…” Thin, bony shoulders lifted in another shrug.

“So you just kept honoring your bargain,” Ian finished for him.

“Yup, that about sums it up.”

Ian walked over and picked up the rifle from under the far window. “What are you doing with this?”

“Ya never know who—or what—you're going to run into these days. I saw your car out front and figured I might need to chase you off.”

He reached for the weapon and Ian handed it over to him. Gina spoke up, “Thank you. I appreciate you taking care of everything around here.”

“My pleasure, ma'am. It sure would be a shame to see this old place go to ruin.”

She gave him a gentle hug. “It's good to see you again, but you don't have to worry about this place anymore. I'm here and I'll take care of it from now on.”

Mr. Carswell nodded. “As it should be. I'll just get on back home, then.”

“Tell Mrs. Carswell I said hello.”

The man nodded and waved as he stepped back outside, making his way down the well-tended path. Ian sighed and shut the door only to turn and open it again. “Hey, Carswell.”

The man spun around. “Yeah?”

“Have you seen anyone around here? Anyone who looked like they didn't really belong?”

He rubbed his stubbled chin. “Well, now that you mention it, there was a guy who came by asking some questions about this property.”

Ian's eyes sharpened. “What kind of questions?”

“Oh, just how to get in touch with the owner, that kind of
thing. Said he was a Realtor and that his clients had driven by and decided they just had to have the place. I told him I didn't have a clue how to contact you.”

Thank goodness for that.

“Did this guy give you a hard time about not knowing? You know, was he persistent?”

“At first he didn't seem to want to take no for an answer, but I finally convinced him I just didn't know.”

“What happened then?”

“He left and ain't been back as far as I know.”

“Can you describe him for me?”

“Well, let's see. He was big, like he worked out a lot. Dressed in a nice suit, he had dark hair and…and I think his eyes were blue.”

“Did he have any tattoos? Earrings?”

Mr. Carswell scratched his balding head. “Yeah, seems like he had a tattoo on the back of his hand.”

Suspicion leaped inside of Ian. “What kind of a tattoo? Did you see what it was?”

“I think it was some kind of dragon or…um…a reptile. Maybe a snake?”

“If I get a picture of him, do you think you could positively identify him?”

A shrug. “Probably.”

Ian nodded. “Thanks.” He pulled out a card. “Give me a call if you see him again, will you?”

“You got it. Take care.” He pocketed the card, then disappeared over the far hill that led to his neighboring property. Ian turned back to find Gina studying the pictures on the mantel. She picked one up and traced the photo with a fingertip. “Patrice was Mario's pride and joy. He never got over her death, I don't think.”

Ian looked over her shoulder, inhaling her spicy scent. “She was beautiful.”

“Yeah, inside and out, from what I understand.”

She replaced the picture and turned to look up at him. He cleared his throat and stepped back. “Mr. Carswell's story about a Realtor's clients picking this place to inquire about is just a little too coincidental to me.”

Gina frowned. “Do you think it's one of the guys looking for us?”

He blew out a sigh. “I think so. I can't say for sure until I confirm a couple of things, but…1 don't know. I need to—” he broke off “—I'm going to call the sheriff and see if he's noticed any strangers around town asking questions.”

“If they knew I inherited the house, they may have come here looking for me. Finding the place empty, they would have gone into town. Is that what you think?”

He nodded, impressed at her ability to reason things through almost as quickly as he. “That's what I think.”

Pulling out his phone, he called information to get the sheriff's nonemergency number. The operator put him through and the phone rang several times before it was picked up.

He identified himself and asked to speak with the sheriff.

“He's not in the office right now. I can patch you through to his cell.”

“Thanks.”

Once again the call was routed.

The sheriff answered on the second ring.

By the time Ian hung up, he felt as if he had a few answers. He made his way over to Gina, who had begun searching the room while he talked with the sheriff.

“Hey.”

She turned, brow raised. “Yeah?”

“Is there a fax machine around here?”

“No. Mina wasn't very high-tech. Whenever Mario came to visit, he brought his laptop. Why?”

Conflicted about what he needed to do and what he wanted to do, he walked over to Gina and pulled his gun from his shoulder holster. “Here. Do you know how to use this?”

She looked up from the drawer she'd been searching through and took it from him. “Yes, Joseph taught all us girls how to use a gun when he finished going through the academy. Ian, what's going on? What did the sheriff tell you?”

“I'm going to have to ride into town. I called to ask if he'd had any strangers in town that really stood out. He did a little investigating for me and said his buddy who owns the diner remembered a man who'd come in asking a lot of questions yesterday. He said the guy was abrupt to the point of being rude when he didn't the answers he was looking for. The owner did a little search on his security videos and managed to come up with one of this guy. He'd sent it to the sheriff. I've got to go look at it.”

“Oh, so that's why you wanted a fax machine.”

“Yeah, so he could send me some still prints from the video. He could send them to my phone, but he said he didn't think they'd come through. They're kind of grainy.”

“Can't someone drive it out here?”

He shook his head. “I asked.” He stepped forward and cupped her chin. “I don't want to leave you, but you can't come with me.”

Biting her lip, she nodded. “I know. I can't take a chance that someone I know—or who knows me—will see me and know I'm here. If they come back and start showing my picture around, I'm toast.”

“Exactly.” Using his thumb, he gently pried her bottom
lip from her top teeth. He sucked in a deep breath and stepped back. “I'll be as fast as I can. Joseph's on the way. He's about twenty minutes out.”

She gripped the gun and made sure the safety was on. “What if you need this?

“I can take care of myself.” He leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Let's figure this out and end it with us on the winning side.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Ian moved toward the door. “I'll be back shortly.”

 

Ear tuned to any noises that might foretell of impending danger, Gina paced the spotless kitchen floor, wondering where she should search next.

Mario had sent her here. To the house that he knew she loved. She fingered the gun, praying she wouldn't have a need for it. The fact that Joseph was on the way offered her some comfort. She hated the thought of Ian having to fight off these very skilled…
assassins
was the word that came to mind, and she shivered in spite of the warming temperatures inside the house.

Closing her eyes, she tried to picture where Mario would have hidden something.

Nothing came to mind.

She'd have to do a methodical search through the house, possibly the barn. Starting in the kitchen, she went through every drawer, every nook and cranny. She even knocked on the wood and listened for a hollow sound, indicating Mario had gotten creative and designed a hiding place.

No luck.

The search did bring forth memory after memory, and she found herself alternating between smiling and tearing up.
Mina, Mario's grandmother, had been such a feisty woman—and a champion of the underdog. Which is why she'd taken in her two needy grandchildren at the age of sixty.

Gina moved into the next room, the den. Mr. Carswell had certainly earned his money. He'd done a fantastic job of keeping the place clean. Not a speck of dust anywhere.

Then an awful thought hit her.

Was it possible that Mr. Carswell could have found whatever it was these guys were after? Possibly unknowingly? Could he have found it and thrown it out? Was she searching for something that wasn't even there?

Sick dread curled in her stomach.

How would she ever know? It wasn't as if she could ask the man if he'd come across anything. She didn't even know what to ask
about.
A paper? A computer disc? A flash drive? A picture? Who knew?

Disheartened, she continued her search of the den—and came across Mina's Bible on the end table next to the oversize recliner.

How that woman had loved the Lord. Gina put it aside, promising herself she'd take the time to go through it later.

A few minutes later, she heard the crunch of a car on gravel. With her pulse speeding up a bit, she raced to the window and nudged the curtain aside a few centimeters.

Ian.

Relief made her knees weak. She hadn't realized she'd been so worried. Rushing to the door, she flung it open just as he stepped onto the porch. “Did you get the information you needed?”

“Yeah, I think so. I learned quite a bit.”

She pulled him into the den. “I've been searching but so far nothing. You might as well fill me in on what you learned.”

“I recognized a man on the tape.”

She stilled. “Who?”

“Robbie Stillman.”

“Who's that? A guy from the unit? I don't recognize his name.”

“He was kicked out for dishonorable conduct about a month after he replaced me.”

“And he's trying to kill me?”

“Looks that way. I thought that might be him when Mr. Carswell described the tattoo on his hand.”

She slumped into the nearest chair. “So…Mario was right—there was a traitor in the unit.”

“Well, he's not technically in the unit, but yeah, at least one traitor.”

Lifting teary eyes to his, she said, “You think he was working with someone else?”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“Who?”

“I don't know. There wasn't anyone else in the video. Just Robbie. And he was definitely looking for you.”

Her eyes went wide. “And?”

“He's been all over town, asking questions, causing quite a stir.”

“Is he still here?”

“No, I never saw him. Apparently he cleared out sometime last night.”

“To come burn down my brother's apartment?” she whispered.

“Maybe. My guess is he wasn't working alone, though.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just a gut feeling. The sheriff said another stranger had been in town, too, but he didn't have a picture of him. I bet
they split up to ask questions. Robbie just happened to get caught on tape.”

“Do you think he—they—know we're here?”

“Either they don't know we're here yet or they know and are forming a plan of attack.”

“So, what do we do?”

“Be ready.”

 

And keep searching. They had to stop running at some point, and Ian figured now was as good as any. Mario had led them to this house. They couldn't leave until they'd found whatever was valuable enough to kill for.