The Faithful (22 page)

“I got us a suite,” he said, helping me up. “But it’s on the second floor. Are you up for some stairs?”

“No problem.”

Actually, the stairs were more of a challenge than I might have thought, and I was winded and weak by the time we reached the second floor. Josh guided me down the long hall, eventually stopping in front of a door and using the key card to gain access. I didn’t even pay attention to the room number. My mind was shutting down, drifting into sleep, while my body desperately tried to remain upright.

He helped me into the living room and was just about to close the door when one of the hotel staff appeared in the doorway with a smile and a plate piled high with nachos. I perked right up at the sight of them and my stomach let out a low rumble of anticipation.

“Compliments of the hotel,” she said as she handed them over to Josh, along with a couple bottles of water.

“Thanks,” he managed, and then closed the door and turned the dead bolt. “Well, that’s unusual.”

“Bring ’em here.” I was already sitting at the table.

“I thought you were going to rest.”

“There are
nachos
, Josh. Rest can come later.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

While Ryanne rested in the back bedroom, Josh remained in the living room and caught up on his work, grateful he’d had the foresight to bring his laptop when they left Ryanne’s house that morning. His phone had been on silent during the meeting with Kahina, and he’d missed several calls from his boss.

It wouldn’t take long for Executive Administrative Director Dean Forster to realize Josh had ignored his directive to back off the case. He chose not to retrieve his messages.

Rubbing his eyes, he tried to wake himself up. Although he wasn’t planning on submitting them, he’d been filling out reports, and his eyes were burning from staring at the computer screen for so long.

Though it was for his eyes only, he felt the need to document everything that had happened. Laying everything out in writing helped. It both clarified and solidified the events of the past couple of days, allowing him to take a step back and reflect on what he’d learned without as much emotion.

There were so many questions, and he suspected most of the answers lay buried within the mind of the woman snoring in the back bedroom.

Josh was a basket of nerves, giddy with the exhilaration of finding Ryanne (One of the missing children!
Found!
), and all the possibilities that came along with such a huge break in the case. But overshadowing his excitement was an overwhelming sense of danger and impending doom.

Ryanne had said there was something much bigger going on than the kidnappings. After witnessing the evil that had come through her during hypnosis, he was convinced. One word kept haunting him, tightening his chest and loosening his bowels. The word was
extinction
.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been attacked?”

Josh jumped at the sound of her voice. He’d been in a half doze in front of the computer, his mind wandering through the tangled web of his unanswered questions. Ryanne was standing in the doorway. Her hair was mussed and there were pillow creases on her right cheek.

“Attacked?” He shook his head, uncomprehending.

“The man that was trying to break into your home.” She limped into the room and settled into the armchair facing him. With everything that had happened since, he had completely put that incident out of his mind, and he told her so.

“It’s not a big deal,” he insisted, but she was already shaking her head.

“It wasn’t just some random guy trying to steal your baseball cards.”

“How do you know about my baseball cards?” he asked, but she waved off the question.

“That guy was sent to kill you, Josh.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“It’s true. Remember, you told me about your boss, what’s his name, Foster?”

“Forster. Dean Forster.”

“Right, that guy. The one with the nasty case of erectile dysfunction.”

“What?”

She waved dismissively again. “He and that other guy, the bigwig with the fancy suits.” He hadn’t told her about Warner’s clothing, either.

“Deputy Director Michael Warner.”

“Right, him. He’s a really bad guy, Josh. I mean
really
bad.”

“You don’t have to tell
me
that.”

“He ordered a hit on you.”

He sputtered, “You can’t be serious!”

“That guy was breaking into your house to kill you. It was pure luck you were leaving to fly here, instead of lying asleep in your bed, when he broke in. Didn’t it ever occur to you to wonder why some guy was breaking into your home with an arsenal of weapons?”

“Damn it! Of course that’s been bothering me. But I’ve barely had time to think about it since I got here.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it here. And it looks like we have something in common.”

“We’re both on someone’s hit list?”

“We’re on the
same
someone’s hit list.” Her mouth was curling up at the corners.

“And that’s a good thing?”

Her smile grew. “Hell, yes. It means we’re rattling the right cages.”

He had to laugh. “You’re nuts.”

“No, just sick of being scared.” She picked up his cell phone and handed it across the coffee table to him. “Call Kahina. I’m ready to do some more cage rattling.”

She answered her cell on the fourth ring, sounding out of breath and nervous.

“Kahina? Are you all right?” Josh asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, but his heart had already kicked into high gear. Something was off.

“What’s going on? Where are you?” he asked.

“I’m at home. I’m fine. Just tired.” She sounded anything but tired.

“Is the media there?”

“No, I’m alone.” But he heard someone in the background. Was that a man’s voice?

She was lying. And her voice was shaking.

“Kahina, listen very carefully. I’m going to bring over some food. What would you like? Say ‘pizza’ if you’re in danger. Say ‘Chinese food’ if you’re safe.”

There was a long pause.

“Pizza sounds good. Thanks.” And she hung up.

He was amazed Ryanne was able to keep up with him, but she did. She was wheezing as she flung herself into the passenger seat of the FJ Cruiser, and still trying to put on her seat belt when he squealed out of the parking lot.

It took less than ten minutes to get to Kahina’s home on Hoagland Road. They drove in tense silence; there was nothing to say.

It was dark by the time they reached her neighborhood, and Josh parked on the opposite side of the street and several houses down, cursing himself for choosing Ryanne’s bright-yellow FJ Cruiser that morning rather than the rental car. How much more conspicuous could he get?

“Wait here,” he said, but she was already out of the car and hobbling across the street. “Shit!” He jumped out and followed her, pulling his gun free of its holster. He caught up to her on the far sidewalk and grabbed her good arm.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he hissed.

“Hurry, Josh!”

He considered his chances of convincing her to go back to the car, and gave it up as a losing battle. Why hadn’t he left her back at the hotel?

But he knew why. He couldn’t stand to have her out of his sight. He was terrified she’d disappear. Again.

“Stay behind me and don’t do anything stupid!”

She followed him up the path to the front door. From the outside, all appeared normal. Kahina’s car sat silently in the driveway. The lights were on inside the house, the curtains drawn against the evening chill. There wasn’t any media around. He debated knocking on the front door, but his nerves were at “code red” levels, so he tried the handle instead.

The door was unlocked.

He motioned for Ryanne to get down and stay put, and then walked across the threshold, gun first. The TV was on in the living room. It was tuned to the evening news, which was covering Leora Wylie’s disappearance. The camera panned over the front of Ryanne’s house. His rental car sat sedately in the driveway.

“Dr. Wilson was first hailed as a hero for her attempt to stop the kidnapping. But I had a chance to speak with Leora’s grandmother this morning, and she paints a much different picture.” Kahina’s face filled the screen. She was standing outside the house on Monte Vista Avenue, her cheeks wet with tears.

Josh turned away, easing through the living room. It was tidy and undisturbed. The kitchen on the right was spotless save for a pot of tomato sauce cooling on top of the stove.

“Hey!” he hissed as Ryanne passed by him, moving toward the back of the house.

“They’re gone,” she called back over her shoulder.

He caught up with her and pushed her aside, moving into the point position.

“Stay the
hell
behind me.” He cleared the bathroom and the guest bedroom, and then moved toward the back bedroom with Ryanne close at his heels.

The first thing he saw was the blood. Wet and fresh. He tried to push Ryanne back, both to protect her from the sight and to protect the chain of evidence. She was having none of it, though. She slipped under his arm and through the doorway.

Ryanne gasped when she saw the blood spatter, reeling back against his chest. And then she was moving forward again, like a woman caught in a nightmare that, no matter how horrific, still had to be seen through to its conclusion.

Kahina was on the floor on the far side of the bed. Her throat had been slit from ear to ear, leaving an angry purple gash. Her skin was gray, her eyes open and staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

“Don’t touch her!” Josh called, to no avail. It was obvious she was gone. But Ryanne knelt down in the blood and placed a trembling hand over Kahina’s eyes.

“Ryanne, she’s dead. You have to move away from her; you’re disturbing the evidence.”

“She was trying to protect us.” Her voice was hoarse, shaky. “They were looking for us. She wouldn’t tell them where we were.”

“Who? Who was looking for us?”

“She thought they were federal agents. They showed her badges, so she let them in. But then she realized something was wrong. She refused to answer more questions, tell them anything more about us.” She gulped back a huge sob and continued.

“She ran. But they caught up with her here. She fought them, but they were too strong.” The tears came.
“It’s my fault. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”
she keened over Kahina’s lifeless body.

He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her upright. She was covered in tears and blood.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her back down the hall to the front door. “We’ve got to get out of here.” He was going against his training, against every instinct he had.

Secure the scene. Gather the evidence.

All the old rules, the ones around which he had fashioned his very existence, no longer applied.

“Where are we going?” she managed as he lifted her into the FJ Cruiser.

“We’re about to become ghosts.”