When the Storm Breaks (32 page)

Fairfax County, Virginia

Wednesday night

“G
in,” Olivia said. She laid down her winning hand and grinned at Claire triumphantly.

“That’s what, ten times in a row? We’re going to have to handicap you.” Claire tallied up the points on a note-pad. “Wait until Aidan gets here, then I’ll win some of my money back.”

She looked up as the phone rang, then froze. A man was standing near the doorway behind Olivia, pointing a gun at her head.

Olivia paused as she shuffled the cards, wondering at Claire’s sudden silence. She looked at her friend’s ashen face and rigid posture, and realized something was very wrong. She jolted when a strange voice spoke from behind her.

“Hello, Marie Claire. You aren’t going to do anything stupid, like call for help, are you? Because if you do, I’ll blow your friend’s pretty little head away. Do we understand each other?”

Claire nodded numbly.

“Don’t move, Red,” Wilkes said to Olivia. “Marie Claire, come over and stand next to me.”

Claire stood and wiped her clammy hands down the front of her jeans. She moved slowly to stand next to the man who was holding a gun on her best friend. He was tall, probably just over six feet. He had short dark hair and navy blue eyes, but other than that she didn’t notice anything outstanding about his features. Nor did he trigger any memories of the night she had run for her life.

Yet she
knew
this was the man who meant to kill her.

“Excellent,” he said. “You’re being very cooperative—this time.”

He shifted the gun to his left hand and pulled a knife from inside his dark jacket. In a heartbeat he had his hand wrapped around Claire’s neck and was holding the knife to the tender side of her throat. The gun stayed trained on Olivia.

“Okay, Red. Now it’s your turn. You can help with the cop downstairs. Come stand over here, to my left, about six feet away from me. Don’t make any sudden moves, or I’ll cut Marie Claire’s throat and kill you before she hits the floor.”

Olivia stood slowly and did as she was instructed.

Downstairs Claire heard Diaz moving around the ground floor quickly. Windows closed noisily and the front door banged shut, followed by the sound of the dead bolt slamming into place.
A little late for that,
she thought bitterly.

Wilkes flinched when Officer Diaz called from downstairs.

“Claire! Olivia! Which room are you in?”

“Answer him, Red,” Wilkes said. “Tell him where you are, nothing more.”

Olivia spoke, but only a hoarse sound came out. She
closed her eyes, cleared her throat, and tried again. “We’re up here, in Claire’s bedroom.”

“Stay there. I’ll be right up,” Diaz said, still locking everything downstairs.

“Now be quiet,” Wilkes said to Olivia, tightening his grip on Claire. He had to think and think fast.

Olivia’s eyes moved toward Claire’s. Both women knew they had to get away somehow, and to do that they would have to work together. Thinking frantically, Claire looked around the room, then she motioned with a hand at her waist toward the open bathroom door behind Olivia. She prayed the man holding a gun on Olivia wouldn’t be able to see the faint movement.

Olivia blinked her understanding without turning her head, thinking the same thing Claire was—escape.

The bathroom sat between the two smaller upstairs bedrooms, and it was connected to each by a heavy wooden door. While a gun and knife stood between them and the hall door, if the women could get to the bathroom, they would have another way out.

Both froze at the sound of footsteps on the back porch. Claire could hear Diaz calling out to his partner on the radio, then using his voice alone.

Claire motioned to Olivia with her hand again, this time pointing at herself. Then she pointed at the hallway. For emphasis, she once again pointed at Olivia and the bathroom door, willing her to understand that Claire would go for the hall door, while Olivia should go toward the bathroom, through it, and into the master bedroom, where there was a door to the hallway.

Olivia bit her lip, not liking the idea of splitting up. But it was their best chance of dividing the killer’s attention, so she blinked again in agreement.

The man holding Claire tensed as he heard heavy footsteps on the old wooden stairs of the house. Officer Diaz called out as he made his way up to them. She watched in horror as the man moved his gun away from Olivia’s head and aimed instead at the doorway.

She realized that he was going to kill the officer, and probably Olivia as well. Their best chance for escape would be when the officer came through the doorway, distracting the killer. She wanted to cry out a warning to Diaz, to tell him of the danger, but she was very aware of the knife resting against her throat and the fact that the killer’s gun could be pointed back to Olivia before the first word of warning left Claire’s mouth.

But then she thought of Sean, and knew what she would do if he were the one coming up the stairs. Officer Diaz had a wife and children and grandchildren, whose pictures he showed at the least excuse. She couldn’t just stand by while he was murdered. Frantically she thought back to Aidan’s brief self-defense instructions, and his advice on how to handle someone who grabbed her from behind.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs. Claire met Olivia’s wide-eyed gaze to let her know that now was their chance.

Without warning Claire yelled and raked backward with her hand, gouging at the killer’s eyes. “He has a gun!”

Surprise loosened the killer’s hold on her. She felt the sting of the knife on her neck as she jerked away from him.

Instead of running, Olivia hurled herself at the killer, knocking him off balance and breaking his hold on Claire. Only when Claire was free did Olivia turn and race toward the bathroom.

“Run!” Claire shouted as she threw herself toward the hall.

Claire heard the bathroom door slam behind Olivia just as she reached the hallway. She ran smack into Officer Diaz, who was advancing cautiously down the hall with his weapon drawn.

“Go back!” she yelled at Diaz.

He reached to pull her behind him when the sound of a gunshot rang out. Claire screamed as the officer crumpled at her feet, blood pouring from his head. Knowing there was nothing she could do for him now, she ran past his body, desperate to draw the killer away from Olivia.

A hand grabbed Claire from behind, yanking her to a stop. She stood there panting as she felt the killer slide his arm around her neck and lay the knife along the cut already bleeding sluggishly there.

“I really am going to enjoy hurting you, Marie Claire.” Wilkes dragged her past the fallen officer and down the hall. “Now, where’s that little friend of yours? We’ll take care of her, then you can see what I have in store for you once we get to the special place I’ve chosen.” His voice was rough with adrenaline and almost dreamy at the same time.

Knowing the bathroom was a dead end—literally—Olivia hadn’t stayed there. As soon as the killer followed Claire into the hallway, Olivia had tiptoed across the attached bedroom to the open hall door. She could hear the man talking to Claire. They were coming back down the hall toward her, cutting off any escape. Olivia knew if the man found her, she would die—there would be no witnesses to Claire’s kidnapping.

I’ve got to get out of here! I’ve got to call the police and
help Claire, and I can’t do that if I’m dead. And dead is what I’ll be if I stay glued to the middle of the room like an idiot!

But she couldn’t get out—the hallway was the only escape, and the killer was already there. With shaking hands, she closed and locked the bedroom door and thought frantically. The lock wouldn’t keep the killer out for long. She had to hide somewhere in the room. That way she could follow the killer when he left with Claire, and somehow find a way to give her friend another chance to escape.

Briefly Olivia considered the window, but she already knew it was warped by age and wouldn’t open easily. It was the old-fashioned type with multiple tiny panes that would take too long to break.

The killer began pounding on the locked door. “I’ll kill Marie Claire if you don’t open this door.”

“He’ll kill me anyway, Livvie! Don’t open the door!”

Olivia knew her friend was right. She looked around the room one more time, then slowly looked up. There was a small trapdoor leading to the attic. She grabbed the chair from a nearby desk, stood on it, and slid back the bolt that held the trapdoor in place. She pulled on the release cord as hard as she could, then jumped back when she was almost knocked over by the folding ladder that tumbled down in response to her tugs. It came partway down and stopped.

She scrambled up the first few rungs to the attic, kicked the chair into a corner, and pulled herself up the rest of the way. Keeping a grip on the cord so that it wouldn’t dangle from the ceiling, she strained to pull the staircase closed behind her. Just as she managed it, the bedroom door below crashed open.

“Come out right now or I’ll kill your friend.”

“Don’t do it!” Claire called.

“Shut up!”

Olivia held her breath and didn’t move. She prayed the man wouldn’t look up. For a few seconds she thought she’d pulled it off. Then she heard him laugh.

“Come out of the attic, you stupid bitch.”

“Don’t listen, Livvie!” Claire cried out, then choked as the killer jerked his arm even tighter around her neck.

Bitches
, Wilkes thought, fighting the panic that came whenever he wasn’t in control of women.
Stupid bitches can’t even follow simple orders
. Too much time had passed since he’d fired the gun. Some neighbor would have called the police by now. And even if he got lucky and no one called, the police were overdue for their radio check.

I have to get Marie Claire out of here now.

He didn’t have time to chase her redheaded friend through the rafters—if that was where she had gone. She could have escaped through the window, and even now might be calling 911.

Swearing loudly, he pushed Marie Claire toward the chair lying on its side and pointed the gun at her head.

“Pull the chair over here, then get on it and throw the bolt. Quickly!”

Claire climbed up on the chair and slid the bolt closed. Anyone up there was now trapped. She fervently hoped that Olivia was long gone by now, yet she had a sick feeling her friend was on the other side of the trapdoor, waiting for a chance to make another break for help.

Wilkes yanked Claire off the chair, dragged her backward, and fired four shots around the outline of the trapdoor.

“Livvie!”

The blunt side of the killer’s knife choked off Claire’s scream. When she was silent, he turned the sharp side to her neck again.

“Come away with me, my sweet prey. I have something very special for you.”

Fairfax County, Virginia

Wednesday night

O
livia waited in a dark corner of the attic until she heard footsteps leaving the bedroom below her. The attic was hot, dusty, and she was trapped in it. A shaft of light came through a small window on the far side. Carefully she made her way over to it. She heard the killer on the stairs and knew she’d only have one chance to open the window.

It probably wouldn’t go quietly.

Taking a breath, Olivia undid the latch on the window and pushed on it as hard as she could. She was astonished when it opened outward. The yard was about thirty feet below.

Feet first, Livvie
, she told herself.
Dangle from your fingertips and then let go.

Turning around, she wiggled out the small window frame. Once she was past her hips, she pushed the rest of her body through the narrow opening, then held herself for a moment by her fingers.

Claire’s voice came from below and to the left, asking
the killer what he’d done with the other police officer. He didn’t answer. Olivia held her breath and waited for them to pass. Once they were out of earshot, she closed her eyes, pushed herself back as far as she could, and let go. She tried to roll as she landed, but ended up taking the force of the fall on her left ankle. Biting her lip against the pain shooting through it, she lurched to her feet and headed after Claire.

When Olivia peeked around the large shrub at the end of the drive, she saw brake lights come on a block down the street. She had no chance of chasing after a car in her condition, but she might get close enough to see the license plate. Awkwardly she went down the shadowed side of the street as fast as she could, ignoring the pain, running her heart out and following the car for several blocks before it turned onto a main street.

The killer gunned the engine. A few seconds later, even the car’s brake lights vanished.

Olivia stood in the middle of the street and screamed Claire’s name.

Then she turned and ran unevenly back toward the house, repeating, “Maryland seven two three. Maryland seven two three.”

Fairfax County, Virginia

Wednesday night

A
idan drove recklessly down the narrow suburban streets—dispatch hadn’t been able to raise either of the officers assigned to guard Claire for over five minutes. Backup units were on the way, but he would arrive before they did.

Without a pause he rolled through a stop sign and turned right onto Crepe Myrtle Lane. About half a block from the house he saw someone running awkwardly down the middle of the street. Ice congealed in his gut when he recognized the red hair and petite frame.

He stopped the car with a screech of the brakes, then bailed out and grabbed Olivia’s arms. Her white face had dark smudges on it, and her pupils were so dilated that he could see no color in her eyes, even in the bright glare of the headlights.

“What happened? Where’s Claire?”

“He took her in his car. Maryland seven two three.”

“Easy, Livvie.” Aidan slid an arm around her. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”

“The killer got into the house,” Olivia said in a flat voice. “Claire and I split up, and we almost got away. Then he shot Officer Diaz and took Claire. I managed to hide. I went out the window and tried to follow, but they were in a car and it was going too fast. Maryland seven two three.”

“What does that mean?” Aidan asked over the sound of her shuddering breathing. “Livvie, look at me. You’re okay. Slow down and breathe deeply. You’re safe.”

“But Claire isn’t!” Olivia panted. “His license plate began seven two three—I didn’t see the rest, but they looked like Maryland plates. Red car, American, like a rental. He took her, Aidan. He took her and I couldn’t do anything.”

Aidan reached through the open window to grab his radio and report the kidnapping of a witness from protective custody. He described Claire and the vehicle, including the partial plates. He paused to ask Olivia for a description of the suspect, then relayed that information as well. He finished by calling for multiple paramedic units and backup to the safe house.

As soon as the dispatcher put out the all points bulletin, Aidan threw the radio back in the car. “Lock yourself in my car,” he said to Olivia. “I have to check on Diaz and Brown.”

Olivia took a step, cried out, and then collapsed against Aidan.

“Your leg?” Aidan asked, supporting her.

Olivia nodded and breathed through her teeth against the nauseating pain. “I think I broke something.”

Aidan lifted her off her feet and headed for the house, where med-techs would soon be arriving with lights and sirens. “How the hell did you do that?”

“I jumped out the attic window.”

“Christ, woman. That’s got to be a thirty-foot drop,” Aidan said, eyeing the tiny window on the right side of the house.

“Tell me about it.”

Aidan strode up the steps, put Olivia in a rocker on the porch, and unlocked the front door. Sirens screamed, coming closer to the house with every second.

“You’ll be safe here while I check on Diaz,” Aidan said. “Okay?”

Olivia nodded and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth while official vehicles pulled up from all directions and armed men leaped out. Very quickly Aidan was back. She looked up at him, afraid to ask how Diaz was.

“He’s alive,” Aidan said. “Looks like a bad furrow on the side of his head, but his pulse is good.”

Olivia listened numbly while Aidan gave orders to the others to help Diaz and look for the missing officer. Then he sat next to Olivia and pulled out his cell phone. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it as he prepared to make the most difficult call of his life.