Killjoy

  Avery flattened her hands against the seat as they bounced along.

  “So,” he said, “were you lying about having a badge?”

  “I have credentials in my backpack.”

  “But you’re not an agent?”

  “No.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing with credentials?”

  “I do work for the Bureau. I’m just not a field agent.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Why? Because you hate the Bureau?”

  “No, because you’re not any good at it.”

  “How would you know what I’m good at?” she said. Lord, he was irritating. Every time he opened his mouth, he said something that rubbed her the wrong way. No man had ever been able to get under her skin the way John Paul did.

  “You don’t have the instincts,” he said. “And before you get all hot and bothered and argue, answer a question for me, and be honest.”

  She folded her arms and frowned at him. “What?”

  “Did you anticipate that Kenny might have a loaded weapon under that counter? Did you even for a split second consider the possibility?”

  “No.”

  “There you go.”

  “I haven’t been trained to be a field agent. I didn’t go through the academy.”

  “That’s no excuse. You’ve either got it, or you don’t. You’ve got some good moves,” he added. “The way you kick-boxed that kid was impressive. But you’d still make a lousy field agent.”

  She refused to comment on his assessment.

  “What exactly do you do for the Bureau?” he asked.

  John Paul could see the blush was coming back. She was either embarrassed or so mad at him her face was turning a fire red. She sure was pretty. Ah, hell, where had that come from? He had no business thinking about such things, especially now that he knew she represented everything he detested.

  “I type,” she said. She heard how defensive she sounded and quickly added, “There isn’t anything wrong with being a typist.”

  “I didn’t say there was.”

  “I’m part of a very important team.”

  “Ah, jeez.”

  “What?”

  “You bought it all, didn’t you? A team player. You’re probably a damn liberal too, aren’t you?”

  “As a matter of fact I am,” she said. “And I’m certainly not ashamed of being a typist . . . it’s an honorable job, after all.”

  “Okay.”

  “Quit being so condescending. I wasn’t hired to be a typist, but that’s what I pretty much do anyway, all day, every day. I transfer information into the database. Now, can we let the matter drop?”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said.

  He seemed preoccupied now. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “This is a good road. Maybe we will get close to Coward’s Crossing before it gets dark. We’ll hike a couple of miles, find a secluded spot for you to hide, and then I can—”

  That was as far as she’d let him get. “Not gonna happen,” she said. “I’ll tell you what. You drop me off, find another good road, and with any luck, you can make it back to Aspen before dark.”

  “And why would I want to drive back to Aspen?”

  “I’ve been thinking . . .”

  “Uh-oh.”

  She ignored the insult. “I think you should get out while you still can. You can tell the FBI where I’m going.”

  He blinked. “You’re kidding. Right?”

  She began to fold and unfold her hands. “No, I’m serious. What can they do if you leave? Nothing,” she said, answering her own question. “Frankly, you don’t need to be involved. You said it yourself. They want me, not you. Besides, you called Noah, and he’s FBI. I’m sure he’s alerted the local team, and they’re most certainly on their way. When you get to a phone, you can call him again, and tell him exactly where I’m headed.”

  “I’ve got an opportunity to get Monk, and you think I’m gonna . . .” He was so angry he was sputtering. He shook his head. “Let me get this straight. You really believe I’ll drop you off in the middle of nowhere and take off?”

  “Wasn’t that your plan?”

  “Hell, no,” he argued. “I was going to find a safe place for you to hide until I got back, someplace Monk would never find you.”

  “In other words, you’ll drop me off in the middle of nowhere and take off.” She didn’t give him time to think about it. “You’re not dropping me off anywhere, unless you plan to go back to Aspen.”

  “You’re nuts, you know that? You’re just plain nuts.”

  “I gather that’s a no?”

  He didn’t respond to her sarcasm.

  She brushed her hair away from her face with her fingers and laid her hands on top of her head. “I wish we could get out of this car. I need a quiet place to think.”

  “You can’t think in a car?”

  She knew he wouldn’t understand. When she was in her cubicle at work, she felt the same way she felt when she was doing yoga. She’d perfected the technique of clearing her mind and then slowly entering data one clue at a time while her hands worked the keyboard. No, he couldn’t possibly understand, and she couldn’t explain.

  “So who looks like you?”

  “I’m sorry. What did you ask?”

  “Back at the store,” he said. “Chrystal said the woman looked like you. So I’ve gotta ask if you happen to have any crazy relatives trying to kill you.”

  “No. There’s only my aunt Carrie and her husband, Tony. No other relatives.”

  “Parents dead?”

  She turned in her seat and stared at his profile when she answered. “I don’t know who my father was. I don’t think the woman who had me knew who he was either,” she said.

  She watched him closely to see if she had shocked him. His expression didn’t change.

  “She died in a car crash quite a few years ago. There isn’t anyone else.”

  “Chrystal said—”

  “I heard what she said, John Paul. Do you know how many women her description fits?”

  He glanced at her and asked, “So is it real?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your hair. Is it real?”

  She blinked. “Are you asking me if I wear a wig?”

  “No, I’m asking about the color. Are you a real blonde, or did you get that from a bottle?”

  “Why do you care about the color of my hair?”

  “I don’t care,” he said, growing irritated now. “But the woman looked like you, so I gotta wonder if you—”

  “No, I don’t color my hair.”

  He was surprised and didn’t hide his reaction. “Yeah? What about your eyes?”

  “What about them?”

  “Colored contacts?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Are you deliberately trying to be a jerk?”

  “Look, I’m just trying to put it together, okay? Kenny said the woman was beautiful. A real knockout.”

  “And?” she pressed.

  He shrugged. “Have you looked at yourself lately? You’ve got to know . . .”

  “Know what?” she pressed when he didn’t continue.

  He frowned at her. “Hell, woman. You’re pretty, damn it.”

  It was the most hostile, backhanded compliment she’d ever received, and the odd thing was, it didn’t upset her. For the first time ever, she didn’t feel the need to launch into her favorite lecture about how appearances weren’t the least bit important.

  She forced herself to consider the problem at hand. “The data isn’t sufficient to form a conclusion.”

  “Jeez, you sound like a computer. A lot of things aren’t adding up.”

  She agreed with a nod. Her stomach was hurting. She felt as though she had a hot coal lodged in her esophagus. She picked up her backpack, found her antacid, a bottle of water, and two energy bars. She opened the bottle, popped the pills, and swallowed. Then she handed th
e bottle to John Paul and opened one of the energy bars for him.

  “Thanks,” he said after he took a long swallow of the water. He took a bite of the bar and washed it down with another gulp. “It tastes like cardboard.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  His smile lasted for half a second, but she still saw it and reacted. She surprised herself. She couldn’t stand the man an hour ago, but now she didn’t think he was so awful. He had a beautiful profile . . . and was sexy as hell. No reason for her to pretend she didn’t notice, even though she wasn’t going to do anything about it.

  He was also protective. The way he tried to boss her around in the store when she went running to the back office. He acted . . . worried. Worried about her safety. Nice, she thought. He wasn’t such a cold duck after all.

  “It’s gonna rain,” he remarked.

  “Rain will slow us down.”

  “It’s still coming. The sun’s going to be setting soon,” he said. “I’m going to plant the watch about a mile or two from here. Then we’ll go on for as long as we can.”

  He parked the car and picked up the watch. “What’d you do with that gun we took?”

  “It’s in the sack on the floor.”

  “Get it out and keep it on your lap. Have you done any target practice?”

  “No.”

  He gave her a disgruntled sigh. “Keep the safety on.” He got the gun for her. “I won’t be long.”

  He disappeared before she could tell him to be careful. A fine drizzle began to fall, covering the windshield. It seemed an hour had passed before he came sprinting down the hill toward the car. When he opened the door, a blast of cold air filled the interior.

  The second he turned the motor on, she flipped on the heater. “Where did you leave the watch?”

  “I hooked it to a tree branch by a crossroad to the west. If he’s tracking us now, I’m hoping he’ll think we took the other road.”

  He drove on, thanking God he had a four-wheel drive. He zigzagged up the side of the mountain, slowly weaving in and out of the trees. When the terrain became too dense to go any farther, he maneuvered the car into a cluster of thick pines, turned it around, and then backed in until he was assured the car couldn’t be seen from the road below.

  Night rushed in on them, closing them in together. The drizzle had turned into rain. A booming clap of thunder sounded. She flinched.

  “You’ve got a weapon just in case, food and water.”

  “What do you mean I’ve got food and water? You think you’re going to leave me here?”

  He reached for the door.

  Chapter 16

  BY THE TIME CARRIE PLOPPED DOWN ON THE LIVING ROOM sofa, she felt doomed. Jilly and Monk had thought of every possible way out. Oh, yes, they’d wired every window . . . except, perhaps, one. She looked up at the skylight that loomed over the spiral staircase. The bubbled rectangle was over thirty feet above them. She shook her head. Even if they stacked table upon table upon wardrobes, they still wouldn’t be able to hack their way through.

  Anne had prepared a dinner from the contents of the pantry, and the three women ate in dejected silence. The sun had gone down and the house was dimly lit by the candles Anne had found. None of them wanted to turn on the lights, fearing Jilly and Monk were watching, and there weren’t any drapes to cover the massive windows. Sara had brought up the possibility that Monk had hooked up a video camera to observe them. That so freaked out Carrie, she once again scoured the house, this time looking for a camera.

  Anne was reclining on the sofa, and Sara sat in an easy chair waiting for her when she came back downstairs.

  “I couldn’t find anything,” Carrie said. “I looked everywhere. I even searched the light sockets, the ones I could reach,” she added. “I don’t think anyone’s watching us.”

  “What difference does it make if they can see or hear us?” Anne asked.

  Carrie thought the question was stupid but didn’t say so. “Because if we’re digging our way out of the basement and they can see us, they’ll push the button and kill us right then and there.”

  Digging through the basement was, of course, out of the question. The door to it was locked, and there was a big sign taped to it. One word, but quite enough to keep the three women from trying to break the lock. “Boom.”

  Exhausted and frightened, Sara and Carrie sat in silence as they stared out the windows at the deepening shadows on the beautiful landscape.

  Anne struggled to sit up. Carrie noticed a stack of papers on the sofa next to her.

  “What’s all that?” she asked.

  “Newspaper clippings I found in the chest in the foyer. One of the owners of the house must have saved them. Here they are,” she said, handing Carrie a picture of a bride and groom on their wedding day.

  “They look happy.”

  “I imagine they were,” Anne said. “But now they’re getting divorced and fighting over this house. Here, take all of the articles,” she said, thrusting them at Carrie. “It’s quite sordid. Is anyone ready for dessert?”

  She sounded like a hostess of a party. Carrie found the question hilarious and laughed until tears came into her eyes. Sara was also tickled. She began to giggle.

  “Oh, I don’t know if I have room for dessert,” Sara said. “After that gourmet dinner of baked beans and canned beets, I’m quite full.”

  “Don’t forget the creamed corn,” Anne reminded. “I worked hard to get just the right amount of pepper mixed in.”

  “It was very tasty,” Sara said.

  “I’ve taken inventory of the pantry,” Anne said. “I thought we could have canned peaches for dessert. Shall we eat in the kitchen by candlelight? I’ve closed the blinds so no one can see in from the driveway.”

  Anne was sounding so chipper that Carrie became alarmed. Her own burst of laughter had been due to near hysteria, but Anne wasn’t hysterical. She was acting as though she were having a lovely time getting together with old friends.

  “After dessert, I have a surprise for you,” Anne said. Her wry smile reminded Carrie of the cat who’d just eaten the canary.

  “You aren’t going to try to open the door to the garage, are you? That one is wired too,” Sara said. “I checked it myself.”

  “In other words, you read the sign on the door?” Carrie said.

  “Well, yes,” Sara answered sheepishly.

  Carrie put her hand out and helped pull Sara up from the easy chair.

  “I’m a little stiff,” Sara said.

  Anne had already gone into the kitchen. They could hear her singing. Carrie, picturing Anne climbing up on the granite counter to open the window above the sink, rushed ahead of Sara. Blessedly, the image wasn’t real. Anne was opening the can of peaches.

  Carrie couldn’t stop worrying. The woman had yet to grasp the futility of their situation. “Anne, you’re not getting loopy on us again, are you?”

  Anne laughed. It was a high-pitched noise, like china breaking. “I don’t think so. Now sit down and relax.”

  At this point, Carrie knew she would have done anything Anne or Sara told her to do. She was feeling so beaten down. She was sick with worry for Avery, and though she was loath to admit it, she missed Tony.

  “I miss my husband.” She was surprised she’d said the thought out loud. “I guess I do love him.”

  “You don’t know?” Anne asked. She placed the fluted ice cream bowls on the table and scooped peaches into each one.

  “I thought he was cheating on me. He said he wasn’t, but I didn’t believe him. Some woman was calling at all hours of the night. The phone’s on my side of the bed, and I always answered. She’d ask for Tony, but when he’d take the phone, he told me she hung up. What if it was Jilly calling?”

  “You didn’t trust your husband.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  The three women ate in silence while Carrie continued to wallow in self-pity. “You know what I hope?”

  “What’s that?” Sara asked. br />
  “When it happens, I hope we’re all sound asleep so we don’t know it.”

  “That’s grim,” Sara said.

  “Will the sound of the explosion wake us up before the pain of being incinerated—”

  “Stop it, Carrie,” Sara demanded. “We don’t have time for such negative thoughts.”

  “Listen, if I want to—”

  “Ladies, please,” Anne interrupted. “Are you ready for my surprise?”

  “You are loopy,” Carrie muttered. “You found some Froot Loops?”

  Anne didn’t acknowledge her ridicule. “I’ve built two houses in the last ten years. The second one was over three thousand square feet. Cedar siding,” she added. She nervously laughed as she qualified. “I hired a contractor, of course, but I was there every single day making sure everything was done the way I wanted it done. I drove the builder crazy.”

  “I’ll bet you did,” Carrie said.

  “Why are you telling us this?” Sara wanted to know.

  “I was leading up to my surprise,” Anne said. She took a breath and then whispered, “I found it.”

  “Found what?” Carrie demanded.

  Anne beamed with self-satisfaction. “A way out.”

  Chapter 17

  YOU’LL BE OKAY HERE,” JOHN PAUL TOLD AVERY.

  “What do you mean, I’ll be okay? You’re thinking about hiking to Coward’s Crossing now? In the dark . . . in a rainstorm? Are you nuts?”

  “Avery,” he began.

  She grabbed his arm. “Okay, if your mind’s made up, I’m going with you.”

  She knew he’d argue, and he did exactly that. He was almost civil as he told her she would slow him down, and he didn’t want or need to have to worry about her out there. When that didn’t work, he tried intimidation, even going so far as to threaten to tie her to the steering wheel.

  She let him go on and on as she climbed into the backseat, found her black jogging jacket, and put it on, and then dug through her bag until she located her baseball cap.

  Scooping her hair up under the black-and-orange Orioles cap, she adjusted the brim, sat back, and kicked off her tennis shoes. Her goal was to try to blend in with the night, and white tennis shoes would be seen.