Retribution

  He wasn’t about to let this one get away.

  Chapter 13

  As soon as they were outside Adam gathered Sidney close and looked down into her eyes. “I’m sorry about that. I know how you hate to be the object of town gossip, and now I’ve added fuel to the fire.”

  “Adam.” She lifted a hand to his cheek. “There are no secrets in a town this small. If it hadn’t been Boyd Thompson, it would have been someone else.”

  “You didn’t have to answer him. It was none of his…”

  She pressed a finger to his lips. “If we want him to do his job, we have to be honest with him.”

  “Hurting you wasn’t part of the bargain.”

  “My feelings aren’t important right now. Catching a killer is.” She tucked her arm through his. “You’ll want to get back to the lighthouse.”

  “The Feds need time for a thorough investigation. They asked me to stay away until they give me a report. Since there’s no point in rushing, we may as well have lunch in town.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” He nodded. “Where’s the best place for lunch?”

  “The Daisy Diner. Home cooking, and Carrie Lester’s sweet smile.”

  “Sounds like a winner.” He allowed her to lead the way.

  The diner looked the same as it had when it had been built more than forty years earlier. A small, neat wooden building with windows along one side and a large, gleaming kitchen with a stainless counter and red-leather stools for those who didn’t want to sit in the booths.

  A bell sounded as they opened the door to the diner. Inside they were greeted by the smell of onions on the grill and the low hum of voices, which seemed to go silent as soon as they walked in.

  “Sidney.” The blonde behind the counter hurried over with a smile. “I don’t see you nearly often enough.”

  “I know. Carrie Lester, I’d like you to meet Adam Morgan.”

  “Hi, Adam. How are you enjoying our lighthouse?”

  He shared a knowing glance with Sidney. “I see what you mean. No secrets in this town.” He turned to Carrie. “It’s quite a change from what I’ve been used to.”

  Sidney caught Carrie’s left hand and studied the expensive diamond that winked in the light. “When are you and Prentice tying the knot?”

  “Next month. I still can’t quite believe it.” Carrie spoke the words on a whisper before taking the pencil from behind her ear as they settled themselves at the counter. “What’ll you two haveAfter recommending the daily special and taking their order, Carrie filled two cups with steaming coffee and left them alone.

  Adam leaned close. “Why can’t she believe she’s getting married?”

  “Carrie is a single mother of an eight-year-old daughter. Prentice Osborn is one of the wealthiest men in town. He’s loved Carrie since their high-school days, but was too shy to admit it, especially since he thought she was in love with someone else. And now, after all these years…”

  “The proverbial happy ending.” He winced. “I’m shocked, I tell you. Amazed. You actually do live in Camelot.”

  She gave his arm a playful slap. “Stop that.”

  Despite his light tone, Sidney was aware of Adam glancing around the crowded diner, scanning the faces for anyone who might fit Marcella’s description. Her light mood was gone in an instant.

  When he caught Sidney watching him, he asked, “See anyone you don’t know?”

  She nodded at friends and neighbors before turning away. “Not a stranger in the bunch.”

  Adam sighed. “I don’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  When Carrie set their food in front of them, Adam fell silent as he tucked into thick slices of meat loaf and garlic mashed potatoes.

  When he’d polished off every bite, he leaned close to mutter, “You weren’t kidding about home cooking. Only this is much better than the stuff I grew up with. I’ve never tasted meat loaf like this.”

  Sidney nodded, and hoped he wouldn’t notice the way she pushed the food around her plate. Her appetite had suddenly fled. “Carrie’s mom has been making some of this food since I was in grade school. She still bakes all the pies, because they can’t find anyone else who comes close.”

  “Does she make pecan pie?”

  “Of course. It’s one of the specialties of the house.”

  After polishing off a generous slice of pecan pie, Adam sat back with a sigh. “Where have they been hiding this little gem?”

  Sidney shook her head. “It’s obvious that you’re new in town. It’s no secret around here. Everybody in Devil’s Cove visits the Daisy Diner at least once a week.”

  “Here you are.” A stick-thin woman in an oversize plaid wool jacket, her white curls flattened by a band attached to earmuffs, strode into the diner and came to a halt in front of Adam. “I’m Estelle Maddox. I heard you’d come in here for lunch.”

  “Of course you did, Mrs. Maddox.” Another look passed between Adam and Sidney, and though they shared a quick smile at the shared joke, they were just as quickly sobered by the thought of the reason for her visit. “What did you find at the lighthouse?”

  “Nothing.” She pulled several sheets of paper from her pocket and pointed to the computer-generated list. “There wasn’t a single item of v the historical society that was missing. Fred Hingle, that’s our locksmith,” she explained to Adam, “came out and replaced the lock with a dead bolt, since your…visitor was able to get in without making so much as a scratch on the old one. Here’s your new key.” She handed it over just as the police chief strode into the diner.

  After glancing around he walked up to Adam. “You heard that nothing’s missing?”

  Adam nodded.

  “The Feds have finished up at the lighthouse. They said they’d keep a close watch on it, since they expect your intruder to be back. In the meantime, I have a pretty clear picture of the man who asked directions of Marcella Trowbridge. She’s working with one of the Federal officer’s artists. We should have flyers available by the end of the day. According to the Federal investigation, whoever broke in doesn’t seem to be interested in vandalism, or in stealing anything of historic value.”

  “I don’t think there’s any doubt about the fact that he’s after me personally.”

  “No doubt at all. And that begs the question why he would go to all this trouble once he learned that you weren’t there.” Boyd peered at Adam. “Why didn’t he stick around and wait for you to come back so he could finish the job?”

  Adam shrugged. “Maybe he figured he’d come back later.”

  “Maybe. But now that he got careless and alerted you to the fact that he’d been there, he has to know the authorities will be expecting him. The fact that he was there while you were out could mean he wanted time to go through your valuables.”

  Adam shrugged. “I don’t have any.”

  “None?” The chief thought a minute. “What about your photographic equipment? Could he have been after that?”

  “Fortunately, it was all with me, in my Jeep, and later in Sidney’s cabin.”

  “A good thing. You’ve probably got a fortune in that stuff.”

  “I agree. But it’s only valuable to a photographer. Certainly not worth breaking into a lighthouse to steal.”

  “You’d be surprised what drives a man to steal. Now, you give me a camera and a dozen rolls of film, and in the end, all I’d have is useless shots of sky or trees that wouldn’t be worth a dime. You, on the other hand, would probably peer through that lens and detect some exotic animal in the tree, or rare bird in the sky at that precise moment, which would make the picture worth a fortune. Which is why you’re the photographer and I’m the cop.” Boyd gave a short laugh. “I guess that’s a fancy way of saying that one man’s junk is another man’s treasure.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed slightly at the chief’s words, and he felt a tingle of memory.

  Seeing the look in his eye, Boyd coc
ked an eyebrow. “What is it?”

  Adam shook his head. “Something. Something just out of reach in my mind. It’s gone now.”

  “If it comes back, call me. I’ve been told to lend a hand with the Federal investigation and help them keep a close eye on the lighthouse.” Boyd turned away, touching a hand to the pistol at his hip. There was a swagger to his step that hadn’t been there before.

  Over his shoulder he called, “If you think of anything at all, no matter how insignificant, give a holler.”

  “Right. Thanks.” As the chief walked out, Adam pulled himself back from his thoughts and, remembering his manners, turned to Mrs. Maddox. “Could I buy you lunch?”

  “Oh, no thank you, Adam.” She gave him her best smile. “After I make my report to the committee, I’m heading out to the cider mill. I promised cider and doughnuts to the historical society tonight. I’m sure our meeting will be especially lively when I make my report on all that’s transpired since you arrived in town.”

  He gave her a faint smile. “Always happy to add a little spice to life, Mrs. Maddox.”

  “You’ve certainly done that.” She gave Sidney a long, considering look before turning away.

  When she was gone Adam stared after her with a solemn expression.

  Sidney touched a hand to his. “What’s wrong, Adam?”

  “I’m beginning to think that nobody around here realizes the seriousness of this. To your police chief this is a chance to flex his muscles. To the head of the historical society, it’s a bit of excitement in what might otherwise be a rather dull meeting. Does nobody understand that this is a matter of life or death?”

  “Don’t blame them, Adam.” She kept her voice soft, so nobody would overhear. “I wasn’t willing to accept it, either, when you first told me. You do have to admit that this is the last place you’d expect to find a professional killer lurking.”

  Professional killer. Just saying those words aloud had her throat going dry. She still found it hard to believe this was happening.

  After paying for their lunch, Adam and Sidney called goodbye to Carrie and walked outside. There was a bite to the wind that had them turning up their collars until they’d reached the warmth of the Jeep.

  As Adam helped Sidney inside, he glanced at the duffel lying on the floor behind his seat and thought again about what Boyd Thompson had said.

  More jumbled, disconnected images filled his brain. As he drove through town he fell silent, deep in thought.

  When they came to the cutoff that led to the lighthouse, Adam slowed down. “Are you in a hurry to get home?”

  Sidney nodded. “I really ought to. Poor Picasso and Toulouse have been locked up all day. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” He continued along the path toward her cabin. “I’ll take you home, but then I have to head back. There’s something I need to do.”

  “All right.” She studied the grim set of his mouth. “What is it, Adam?”

  He shrugged. “It’s something the chief said. About my photographic equipment.”

  “You think the assassin wts it?”

  “Not the equipment. The film. I have dozens of rolls of undeveloped film, and some of them had to be taken at the time of the car bombing.”

  Her eyes widened as understanding dawned. “You’ll call the chief and tell him what you suspect?”

  He nodded. “On my way back to the lighthouse.”

  When they rolled to a stop in front of the cabin, they saw the dog and cat peering anxiously out the window.

  “Poor babies,” Sidney muttered as Adam came around to help her to the ground. “They’ve been cooped up too long. They look positively frazzled.”

  As soon as the door was unlocked Picasso and Toulouse came rushing out, dancing around while yelping and meowing.

  “They’re not used to being left alone for such a long time.” Sidney paused on the threshold. “Will you come back for dinner?”

  Adam shook his head. “The Feds will be calling all the shots until the assassin is caught. If they think I should leave the lighthouse, you know I’ll be here.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her. Then for good measure, he kissed her again.

  Against her mouth he muttered, “As soon as I know anything, I’ll call you.”

  Sidney waved as he climbed into the Jeep and drove away, then let herself inside, trailed by Picasso and Toulouse. With any luck, she thought, Adam would have the answer to the puzzle, and the authorities could finally track down the hired gunman before he could make good on his threats.

  Adam straightened and rolled his shoulders. The last batch of negatives had been developed. Completed prints were hung to dry. Now he needed to find out if his theory was correct, and learn if he might have been unwittingly harboring the answer to this puzzle all along.

  He lifted the magnifier to the prints and began studying them in minute detail. Almost at once he was thrust back into the chaos of that terrible day, hearing the chest-pounding explosion, feeling the ground shudder as the limousine burst into flame. While everyone else had begun to run away, instinct had taken over and he’d run toward the source of the fire, camera in hand, reflexively clicking off shot after shot as pieces of the vehicle exploded. Doors, windows, wheels, motor parts were flying everywhere with enough force to destroy anything in their path. The bodies of the ambassador and his assistant were flung through the air like rag dolls, falling broken and bloody hundreds of yards from the car. Even when the second explosion ripped through what remained of the limousine, Adam had continued shooting until he was thrown backward by the force of it and rendered unconscious by the jagged pieces of metal and glass that pierced his flesh, nearly severing his arm from his shoulder.

  He remembered the excruciating pain as his head smashed against the pavement. Could even recall the last thought that had come unbidden to his mind, just before the darkness took over. He could have run like the others, and been safe. He could have, but didn’t. And he knew with certainty that if he were given the chance to do it over, he’d do the same thing again.

  If his life stood for anything, it wasn’t about his own safety, but about reording the atrocities committed by those who chose to take justice into their own hands.

  Once in the ambulance, as they sped to the hospital amid screaming sirens, the emergency crew had to pry the camera from Adam’s hands. He could remember it now. His fingers had curled tightly around it and seemed frozen in place, as though even his subconscious mind refused to turn over control of his precious treasure.

  Upon his release weeks later, his belongings had been returned to him. They consisted of his camera, his wallet and one bloody shoe, which were the only things that had survived intact. At the time, they had held no special significance to him. Now, as the memories came rushing back, he knew, with absolute certainty, that he would find what he was looking for in these negatives.

  He ran a hand over his face, feeling the beads of sweat. He hadn’t realized how stressful it would be to develop a simple roll of film. After all, he’d spent years recording the horrors of wars and terrorist activities. He prided himself on being able to detach himself from the violence in order to study the pictures in great detail, to determine which ones would be broadcast around the world and which would be discarded. But none of those photos had ever carried the emotional impact of these. This time, he hadn’t been a mere observer, but had become, in a split second, a victim, as well.

  Not a victim, he told himself, and pressed a palm to his aching shoulder as if to calm the pain that flared. He’d survived. And would continue to do so. He’d be damned if he’d let a madman win.

  He studied the blurred image in the last photo. Despite the flames and the flying debris, the body parts and the chaos created by the car bomb, Adam could make out a face, peering through the waves of heat, directly into his lens.

  He knew, in one sudden, chilling instant, that this was the face of the one who’d carried out the bombing. And he had no doubt whatever that it would al
so prove to be the face of the man who had asked directions from Marcella. The same man who had broken into the lighthouse in search of this damning evidence, in order to destroy it before it could be used against him.

  Adam sat back, idly rubbing his shoulder. His own equipment might be crude, but the Federal authorities would have no problem using the latest high-tech equipment to remove all the extraneous images and bring the face into sharp relief.

  That done, they would have a face that would be broadcast around the world, putting the assassin on notice that they knew what he looked like. It was only a matter of time before they would learn his identity and alert the whole world.

  Adam felt a moment of jubilation. But only a moment.

  Now that he had proof of what the intruder had been searching for, it was critical that he get this information to the authorities. With evidence this crucial, the assassin would stop at nothing to see that it was destroyed before it could be used against him.

  He needed to get this to the authorities immediately. But first he would pick up Sidney and insist that she accompany him. Once they were both safely away from here, he would breathe a little easier.

  He shoved everything inside a manila envelope and dropped it in his duffel with his equipment. With the duffel bag in one hand and his cell phone in the other, he hurried out to the Jeep.

  Chapter 14

  “Picasso. Toulouse.” Sidney had no more than stepped into the cabin when the dog and cat pushed their way past her, almost tripping her in their haste. “What’s wrong with you two?”

  Picasso ran to the window and stood on his hind legs, peering out while Toulouse leaped to the countertop and practically climbed into Sidney’s arms as she set down her keys.

  She picked up the cat and buried her face in its fur for a moment before crossing to the fireplace to add a log to the hot coals. As flames began to lick along the bark, she settled herself in a chair. When she did, Picasso ran to her and gave a little yelp, before racing back to the window.