The Survivor (23 page)

JANUARY 25

4:00 A.M. FRIDAY

T
he hotel felt like a prison.

Kariss was accustomed to her own bed in her own home, and the unfamiliar sights and sounds of the two-bedroom hotel suite contributed to a sleepless night. The heater rattled, reminding her of an old man’s bones, and the smell of it when it kicked on reminded her of couples’ activities that were better left unsaid. Long after midnight, she gave in and took a pain pill to ease the throbbing in her head. But sleep never came. Just when she felt herself easing into oblivion, something in her brain snapped … a thought … a reminder that this wasn’t her home.

Or did she spend the night restless because of the circumstances? Last summer she’d refused when Tigo insisted she take a vacation until the bad guys were apprehended. And she’d been nabbed by a Mexican gang who had wanted her dead. Nearly succeeded in killing her too.

Now she wanted to pull on her tennis shoes and go running.

She wanted to go out for breakfast.

She wanted to catch a sale.

What about church this week?

And she was being incredibly selfish.

Tossing back the sheet and the blue-and-gold-flowered quilt that matched the one in Amy’s room, Kariss swung her legs over the side of the bed and took her bad attitude to the kitchen. She’d brought coffee from home, and right now she
needed a strong cup. Her gaze settled on her Bible, which rested on the counter. Certain she’d be convicted for her less-than-admirable thoughts, she considered skipping the morning’s reading and study. With a sigh, she snatched up the leather-bound book. What else could she do at four in the morning? Drink herself into a caffeine high and continue to stress about her situation? Why not talk to the One who had it all under control?

She glanced at Amy’s closed door and hoped her suitemate slept until noon. Most of Kariss’s ill mood was spelled A-M-Y. Kariss had forgiven her, but she hadn’t gotten past her frustration at being betrayed.

She’d brew the coffee and take a fresh cup to both Jerry and Hank, who were keeping vigil in their car in the rear parking lot. According to a text from Tigo, the two had just come on duty at three, so she could at least show some hospitality. Then she’d read her Bible—perhaps the passage about the Good Samaritan … as soon as she decided whether she was the victim or the one who did the bandaging.

Restlessness had settled into her bones and rocked her equilibrium, and this was only the first morning of solitary confinement.

Fifteen minutes later, Amy emerged from her room. Dressed in a white robe, she appeared to survey the room. One glance at the dark circles beneath her reddened eyes revealed her equally sleepless night.

“I just made a pot of coffee.” Kariss rose from the sofa. “I’ll get you a cup.”

“I’d take something stronger if you had it, and I’m not a drinking woman.” Amy slumped into an upholstered chair and wrung her hands.

“Need a shrink?” Kariss hoped a light tone would help Amy focus.

“How about a little sympathy for my situation?” Amy snapped. “After all, I’ve lived with this for a while.”

All thought about the Bible reading a few minutes ago did little to stop Kariss’s anger from sizzling like bacon. “How about a little sympathy directed this way?”

Amy’s head jerked up. “I’m the one who had a bullet with my name on it.”

“And I took it, Dr. Garrett. Not to mention narrowly escaping another bullet that had my name on it. What am I? If you’re accustomed to having those around you tread in ballet slippers, count me out. I’ve forgotten how to pirouette.”

Amy opened her mouth, then shut it abruptly. “I’ll get my own coffee.”

“Look, we’ve got to get along or this won’t work. I have my laptop and can disappear into my room. No problem. Working on your novel is therapeutic. But we do need to occasionally communicate. We’re supposed to be helping the investigation and working on our friendship.”

Amy sloshed the coffee while pouring it into her cup. “I’m sorry. Lately those seem to be my two favorite words. But you’re right. I’m used to others catering to me. Other counselors can see my clients today, and you can write, but neither will help get us out of this mess. I hate this game. Twenty-three years I’ve waited for him to surface, and now I’m terrified.”

“Might change the ending of the book.”

“You and Agent Harris fit together well. Your remarks remind me of scraping chalk.”

“Because they’re true? They make you think?”

“Both. I respond better to people who offer encouragement and compassion.”

“Your choice, Amy. We can make the best of our situation or argue like two junior high girls.” Kariss noted her own empty cup. “What quotes were in your emails?”

“Two from
In Cold Blood.
I’ve read the book at least a dozen times trying to find a clue to the assailant’s identity.”

Kariss cringed. “I’m sorry.”

Amy returned to the chair. “You see, I’m a fraud. I counsel
hurting women and give fancy speeches, while inside I’m an emotional cripple.”

“I’m not your family or a staff member,” Kariss said. “Friendship isn’t a one-way street.”

“You remind me of my old therapist,” Amy said. “She wouldn’t take excuses either.”

“Maybe you should call her.”

“She died.”

Pity seeped into Kariss’s heart as she went and filled her coffee cup again. But not enough to turn her into a doormat. “Do you want to wait this out in separate rooms?”

“Not sure.”

“If we don’t kill each other first.”

Amy smiled. “I deserved that. Truce, okay? Let me drink this coffee and take a shower. Then we can talk.”

“Here are my thoughts,” Kariss said. “I can’t sit here and wait for the FBI and HPD to solve this case. Nor do I want to munch on M&M’s or play word games on my iPhone.”

“I’d rather crawl in a hole and die.” Amy’s voice was laced with acid. “I’ve lived my life looking over my shoulder and waiting. I’m tired of it.”

“I have an idea.” Kariss lifted her cup to her lips and took a sip of coffee while studying Amy. “Facebook got us both into trouble, right?”

“What are you thinking?”

Kariss grinned. “Consider social media’s ability to spread the word while you take your shower.”

9:30 A.M. FRIDAY

Tigo, Linc, and Ryan stood in front of the squad board labeled “Semtex Bomber.” The details and photos of the victims were posted for agents to brainstorm the next step of their
investigation. Unfortunately, they still didn’t have substantial evidence for any of the suspects.

“Baxter Garrett couldn’t have shot Kariss,” Linc said. “David Smith/Wesson might have threatened Joanna, but he has a solid alibi during the time of the shooting. We’re missing something. Maybe a few coincidences are clouding the picture.”

Ryan pointed to Joanna’s picture. “Makes sense that Joanna filed for divorce to protect her family and get enough money from the settlement to pay Wesson off.”

“We haven’t found the right bad guy,” Tigo said. “We haven’t dug deep enough to find the real motive that links both bombings. Amy was a child when she was assaulted, and Joanna was in her midforties when the bomb took her life. I don’t see anything linking the two women. None of our suspects are old enough to have assaulted Amy, which makes me question how many persons are involved.”

“Jonathan’s pressing me,” Linc said. “Last night at a deacons’ meeting, he and Taylor had an argument about the budget. I thought the two were going to take a punch at each other. Oddly enough, Francis Willis took Taylor’s side. Wonder how long that will last.”

Tigo sighed. “I know I suspected Jonathan in the beginning, but not anymore.”

Linc stared at the board. “He tugged at his ear more than once during the argument, and he was distracted, angry. I think the unsolved murders and dealing with Joanna’s involvement with an escort service is driving him near the edge.” He nodded. “Then there’s Ian.”

“Want us to talk to them again?” Tigo said.

“Jonathan’s at work, and the boys are in school. There’s a game tonight too.” Linc hesitated. “Let me do this. I don’t think for one second that he’s a part of this. I’ll talk to him when we’re finished here—away from our office and his.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Tigo said. “If I could get Curt away from his family and buds, he might open up. I offered him a
way out if he ever needed to talk. Seemed receptive. Ian, on the other hand, had no interest in even listening to my offer.”

Linc studied the squad board. “Jonathan said the boys refused to see counselors. Both said it was too soon. Slim chance of either of them opening up to an FBI agent, but I’ll mention it and see if anything happens. It’s far-fetched, but it could bring us closer to ending this case.”

Back at his desk, Tigo considered calling Kariss to see how she and Amy were handling the situation. Instead, he decided that when this was over, he’d order a dozen roses for each woman—red ones for Kariss and yellow for Amy. Once they recovered from being holed up together, they’d think he was the best agent in Houston.

He suspected both women had long since regretted agreeing to a protective detail. They were probably bored. But Kariss could write and do the social-media thing. He checked her Facebook page but didn’t see anything alarming. Then he checked Amy’s page. He didn’t expect to read anything after he’d lectured her about informing followers of her every move. But she’d been at it again.

“What is she thinking?” Tigo was certain everyone within earshot heard him. What were those two women planning this time?

Did Amy and Kariss really want to know Tigo’s thoughts about their ludicrous idea?

“What’s up?” Ryan stuck his head into Tigo’s cubicle. “I heard your eruption.”

“Our daring doctor posted an update on Facebook. Take a look.”

Ryan read the post. “Do you see where this is going? My bet is Kariss instigated this.”

“Definitely her MO. They’re trying to shine a spotlight on this guy again. Brilliant—as long as it doesn’t get them killed.”

“Can we lock them inside a vault?” Ryan crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m considering spending my nights on the couch of their hotel room.”

Ryan lifted a brow. “Convenient. Plays into your personal plot too.”

Tigo frowned. “I’m thinking about their welfare. What would you do if the woman you cared about was in danger? And not for the first time?”

“I’d be all over it. Give it a try. I’m warning you, though—she might throw you out.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Tigo laughed. No point in getting upset about Kariss’s latest antics. She had her own mind, and he understood her drive to help Amy.

“Thought you’d want to know. Taylor Yeat just called me.”

“How do you rate?”

“I think he’s afraid of you.”

Tigo laughed again. Comic relief was good for the soul. “He should have seen your disguise last night. It even scared me. So what did he want?”

“Permission to leave town. He wants to visit a church in Mobile that may extend a call.”

“Not sure what that means.”

“A church there wants to meet him. Hear him preach. See if he’s a good fit. Taylor said it was a last-minute thing and wants to fly out tonight.”

“Is his wife going?”

“He wasn’t sure. She might be needed at home for their three kids.”

“How convenient. What about Darena?”

“He claims to have backed away from the relationship. Maybe he’s finished looking at greener pastures before his wife leaves him and his ministry is ruined.”

Tigo considered his lack of respect for the man. “I think he found the greener pastures grew over a septic tank. I commend the guy if he’s trying to clean up his act. Not sure how I feel about him leading a church after what he’s done. Would he tell a prospective congregation about his affair?”

“Who knows? So should I call him back, get the info on Mobile, and give him an okay?”

“Sure. If he doesn’t make it back Sunday night, we’ll know he’s guilty.” Tigo tapped his pen on the desk and snatched his Blackberry. “I’m calling Darena. See if she’s in on this.”

But Darena didn’t answer at work, at home, or on her cell phone.

“Let’s check the airlines. Make sure this isn’t a lover’s weekend,” Tigo said.

The day had gone from stressful to complicated. Tigo wanted to see Kariss and find out what she and Amy were up to, but now he needed to check up on an immoral pastor and attend a high school basketball game.

4:40 P.M. FRIDAY

K
ariss had checked Amy’s Facebook page numerous times for a comment that would lead them to the man who wanted Amy dead … and possibly Kariss too. Only well-wishers had responded. A few suggested an ending for Amy’s story, while others recommended the story be told in its entirety. All the responses encouraged whatever means available to ensure that Amy’s story was told. Kariss’s page had been tagged but was devoid of negative comments that could have revealed the assailant.

To say she was disappointed barely touched the surface of Kariss’s feelings. Her head pounded, and she wanted to think something good had come from Wednesday afternoon.

In short, the idea had gone south, and Kariss was bored from her fingertips to her toes. A wild-boar hunt on horseback sounded appealing, but she’d probably have to settle for a game of Monopoly. She clenched her jaw … claustrophobia was a terrible foe.

Earlier she’d passed a little time by inviting the agents inside for lunch. Of course, protocol kept them on task, but they were able to talk. Jerry had two girls in high school. His partner’s story, however, had a sour taste to it. Hank had just gone through a stressful divorce. His wife couldn’t handle his commitment to the FBI. He’d joked about the agents’ demanding mistress. It made Kariss think about Tigo. She didn’t look at his career as competition. Perhaps it was a challenge during difficult times, but it had never appeared to be a battle of priorities.

After the agents returned to their car, Kariss worked on the second chapter of Amy’s story. Concentrating was another matter. Amy stared at her own computer screen, seemingly in another world, while Beethoven’s Fifth sounded faintly from her PC.

Kariss waved her hand to get Amy’s attention. “Tomorrow I’m going home,” she said. “This is nuts.”

Amy frowned. “You’re asking for trouble, and you’re sending me and the FBI mixed messages.”

Ah, Amy was back in therapist mode and making too much sense. “Maybe so. But this isn’t living.”

“Day one, Kariss. You’ll get used to it. I thought we’d talked this out. Do you want me to get my notes? You gave your word to Tigo, and then you talked me into it too.”

“I remember what we said. My point is, I don’t want to get used to this … to this confinement. I’ll take my chances in my gated community behind locked doors with my 9mm.”

“Owning a gun didn’t do you any good at the coffee shop. If someone wants you dead bad enough, a security gate isn’t going to stop him.”

The voice of reason held far too much truth. Kariss paced across the small living area floor. Before she could respond intelligently, someone knocked at the door. A moment later, her fingers touched the knob, but caution sent a warning signal to her brain.

When she looked through the peephole, she saw no one. “Jerry, Hank?” When neither of the agents responded, she repeated her question.

When there was still no response, she moistened her lips and went to retrieve her gun from her purse.

“What are you going to do?” Amy whispered.

“Use this if I need to.”

“There are two trained FBI agents in the parking lot assigned to protect us. Stay inside where you belong.”

“I don’t understand why someone knocked but hasn’t
answered. They should have identified themselves. Maybe it’s housekeeping.” She pulled her phone out of her purse as she was grabbing her gun and called each agent’s cell phone. Neither man answered.

She swung toward Amy. “I’m going to check on Jerry and Hank.”

“You’re crazy. What if they’re apprehending someone?”

“I have my weapon.”

“You’re not writing a story, Kariss. You’re living a dangerous one.”

“Good line, Amy. I’ll remember it.” She glanced at Amy’s frown. “I’ll be careful. But I can’t sit inside and do nothing. I’m not wired that way.”

“Then you need to call an electrician.”

Kariss tucked her phone into her jeans pocket. “Another great line. Thanks. Seriously though, God’s writing our life stories. It will be okay.”

The moment Kariss stepped onto the balcony that overlooked the rear parking lot, she felt relief. Jerry and Hank were in their car, so she waved. When they didn’t wave back, she ventured down the steps. They were probably on their phones or something.

The agents were parked two rows back, because it gave them a wider view of the area. With long strides she walked to the car.

Jerry’s head was slumped against the steering wheel. Blood matted his gray-white hair. Hank leaned back against the head rest, his throat cut. A piece of folded paper had been stuck in his mouth.