Craig was a good driver—a skill honed over the years. He was capable of being a good fast driver, as well. He was intent on reaching the address they had discovered on the receipt—hiding in plain sight at the Baron home—as quickly as possible.
Once they were out of the city, the roads were dark.
Darker still as the roads became smaller and narrower, until Craig followed nothing but a trail of dirt up toward a cabin sitting in the midst of a small clearing and surrounded by pines. The trees seemed to hug the little building like a protective cape.
Craig could have sworn he’d seen a light in the cabin through the trees when they first came around on the dirt trail leading to it. But when they reached the rocky dirt driveway in front of the house, it was pitch-black. Only the car’s headlamps gave any glow at all, other than a smattering of stars above them. Even the moon had hidden, so it seemed.
Craig looked at Mike. Mike groaned softly, then shrugged. “Let’s check it out. At worst? They can arrest us for breaking and entering.”
Craig nodded and grinned. Mike had Craig’s back anytime—even if he liked to make a show of warning against anything that wasn’t completely within legal limits.
“I saw a light,” Craig said quietly. “I’m certain of it.”
“You think we scared them?”
“Possibly. But that’s better than...”
“Than?”
“Better than us getting here and them already dead.”
Craig opened the car door, leaving the keys hanging in the ignition and the lights on. He walked around to the trunk and drew out two of the flashlights they kept there, tossing one to Mike as he emerged from the car, as well. He aimed the light at the wooden porch steps and then the main door of the cabin. He walked up and tried the door—certain it would be locked, but testing it, anyway.
It didn’t budge.
Mike came up behind him, prepared with a little tool he carried that wasn’t exactly FBI issue. In a matter of seconds, he’d jimmied the lock open. They slowly swung open the door and stepped cautiously into the pitch-black cabin.
Craig threw the glow of his flashlight over the living room.
There was a needle-hook rug on the floor between a large fireplace and a worn leather sofa with matching side chairs. On the rug was a dollhouse and various figurines. A copy of a well-loved children’s book lay open beside it. A sippy cup was on a table by the sofa.
Someone had just been there.
Someone had just run.
“Outside,” Mike told Craig.
“Rooms, attic, basement,” Craig said.
They both nodded. Mike headed out.
Craig started out quickly moving to the left—dining room and kitchen—and then through the living room to the right—two bedrooms, one with a full-sized bed and the other with a twin bed and bunk beds.
The cabin was warm. It had heating; it had water and electric. He was willing to bet that it had cable, and that all of it was held and paid under an assumed name.
The place seemed to have what was needed for day-to-day use—even for three girls. It had been there for some time, Craig thought.
Waiting—prepared.
Lily Baron had known that her husband might well wind up in trouble. And he had been honest enough to try to make sure that if sacrificing his own life didn’t work, she’d still be safe with their girls.
But Lily clearly also knew that her husband’s enemies were many, that they were cunning, and that they wielded great power.
That they might find her.
Maybe they had.
He refused to believe that. Jimmy Baron was in the hospital, most probably dying. Maybe it was just too much to think that his whole family might have been killed, as well.
The rooms were empty.
He found the one ladder to the attic next, pulled it down, and climbed up. It wasn’t much of an attic; it was really a crawl space that held a few boxes.
No one was hiding up there. The dust was undisturbed. No one had been there.
As he came down the ladder, he softly called Lily’s name. “I’m Special Agent Craig Frasier. I’m with the FBI. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
There was no answer. He didn’t really expect one.
Only one place was left inside—the basement. He found stairs that led down into what was basically little more than a plastered-over foundation. It was full of barrels and boxes and chests—all manner of storage.
“Lily, please, if you’re here, let me help you,” he said.
Nothing.
But then he heard a sniffle.
And then a soft cry.
And one little voice that urged another to be quiet.
He didn’t realize how hard his heart had been beating until he felt it then; one slam against his chest and it started to slow.
“Lily, please, I’m with the FBI. I’m here to see that you and your children are safe—really safe.” He pulled out his wallet and his credentials. “Not sure where you are in here, but I hope you can see these. I don’t want the girls to be unduly frightened.”
She stood then.
She had been taking refuge behind one of the storage chests.
Lily Baron was a slender woman of medium height. She had pale blond hair, a color echoed in the three little heads that soon appeared near her, one popping out from behind the dressmaker’s dummy, and two of them arising from behind trunks.
She would have been very pretty if she didn’t wear such a weary look of concern and worry.
“Really, Lily, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he said, and she began to cry.
* * *
It was a crime scene. Kieran prayed that she wasn’t going to find a dead woman. She knew she shouldn’t go rushing through the apartment; she wasn’t armed in case there was still a threat, and she might contaminate the scene if she didn’t move carefully.
Life was most important.
She prayed Alyssa was alive.
And she had a child...
No one in the living room. Chopra and Harding were with her—armed protectors—and she should have let them go first.
Later, she would admit that.
But in the moment, she just rushed through. Ran at full speed through to the back, and there, on the kitchen floor, she found Alyssa Ryan.
Alyssa had huge dark eyes. She looked lost and afraid and completely bewildered as she cradled a bundle in her bloody arms.
“Help!” she whispered.
“Help is here, hold on, hold on...”
Kieran reached for the bundle.
Alyssa Ryan’s little two-year-old. “I have him, I have him, help is coming!” She could hear June Chopra on her radio; an ambulance was on the way, cops were on the way.
As if she instinctively believed that Kieran was real help, she nodded.
Her eyes closed and she fell still.
Again, with more urgency, Kieran prayed that she wasn’t dead.
* * *
Craig called Richard Egan to let him know that they had found Lily Baron and her daughters—alive. He didn’t intend to tell anyone else, though, and he let Egan know why.
“Slippery slope there, my friend, thinking some kind of law enforcement agent or officer might be involved,” Egan said. “Then again, I have nothing against keeping information on a need-to-know basis.” He was quiet for a minute. “You’re aware that either McBride or Kendall or Beard or his partner, Holmes, have been at the hospital continually. Not the marshals, of course. Their one job—”
“Keep Riley and Tanya safe, yeah,” Craig said.
He was standing just inside the front door of the little cabin. Mike had taken the car around back—a precaution—while Craig kept watch on the road. Craig had no desire to see anyone arrive as he and Mike tried to get the Baron family secretly to safety.
“They haven’t been alone there, have they?” he asked. “I don’t mean alone—obviously, there are doctors and nurses and hospital personnel, but it never occurred to me that our explosion victim might be left alone with...with cops,” he said, finishing a little lamely.
“You’ve worked with me a long time,” Egan said. There might have been amusement in his voice; there might have been reproach. “Do you really think that I wouldn’t be looking out for our interests? I’ve had an agent in there 24/7. We’ve been keeping our eye on the cops. Oh, and, I guess, the cops have been keeping an eye on us.”
“In what way?”
“Your new friend—or Mike’s old friend. Jacob Wolff. It’s too dangerous for him to go undercover again. His superiors have agreed, however, that he can pinch-hit with the US Marshals when it comes to watching over Tanya and Riley. Or our man in the hospital.”
“What about the fellow who was followed to his apartment? Who was in the waiting room the other night?” Craig asked.
“Ah, him. Hmm. You know, it was odd. The whole building was checked out. We have not been able to find anyone legally in that building who matches the man’s description. How he got in—and out again—we don’t know. Whoever he was, no one has been able to ascertain—not any of the best research guys from the federal or local agencies,” Egan said.
“So he must have been there because he suspected something. Because he was trying to see if the place would crawl with cops.”
“Highly likely,” Egan said. “Then again, the man, thus far—should we figure out who he is—has not done anything illegal. It isn’t against the law to sit in a hospital waiting room.” Egan let out something of a frustrated and weary sigh. “With this gang, we need an entire squad room to watch everyone involved all of the time. Anyway, get that woman and her kids here, to safety, ASAP. I’ll let the US Marshals office know that we’re about to add to their burden.” He was quiet for a minute. “A miracle if that man pulls through. If he does, he’s going to have to make one hell of a deal with the state’s attorney. Don’t that really beat all, huh? The man manages to control his personal and physical demons, and then the poor bastard is burned nearly to death. Good thing is, if he gets a new life, he will live it well.”
“I’ve met his wife and kids. He’s got something to live for,” Craig said. They ended the call.
All of a sudden, Craig could see lights on the road. He frowned. There wasn’t much out this way. Was someone headed here?
His phone rang. It was Mike.
“We’re ready here. Mom and kids tucked into the back of the car. Let’s go.”
Craig hesitated.
What if someone was coming out here to kill the Baron family?
“Craig?”
Didn’t matter; there was nothing else he could do right now. He couldn’t leave Mike alone to defend the family if something happened in the car.
“On my way.”
He hurried through the house. Out back, he quickly slipped into the car. He glanced around. Lily Baron sat white-faced, her oldest and youngest daughters to her left, her middle child to the right. They were only more or less in seat belts, but, at that moment, they had to do a little minor lawbreaking.
He smiled at Lily. He hoped it was a reassuring smile. She tried to smile back. It had to be hard as hell for her.
She needed to hold it together for the kids.
She knew that her husband was lying in the hospital on the verge of death.
He hadn’t found out much about her yet, but he admired her. She had known about her husband’s fall into addiction; she knew about his struggle out. She also knew the cost they were all paying. And she still loved him.
“We’re going to be fine,” he assured her.
Mike was driving; Craig tried to settle back. They drove around the house. Whatever car had been on the road, it was gone now. It had most likely just driven on by.
As Mike pulled out from the cabin’s trail and onto the bumpy main road, Craig saw lights again. For some reason, he was pretty sure that a car had doubled back.
He wished he was the one driving. He honestly liked and admired his partner tremendously, but maybe it was an unavoidable male-DNA thing. He thought he was a better driver.
He was also on edge, and wanted to be in control.
Was someone out here looking to kill these little innocents? A real message to anyone who stood against the gang and its plans?
He unobtrusively drew his gun from the holster at the back of his waistband.
The kids hadn’t noticed. The bigger ones were singing “The Wheels on the Bus” softly to the smallest one.
But Lily knew. He could see it in her eyes when he glanced at her through the rearview mirror.
“I’m moving, not to worry,” Mike assured them.
“Yep, thanks.”
And Mike did motor.
He drove so fast and fluidly that Craig thought he’d been paranoid at first; they made it back to the highway without anyone sticking to them like glue or appearing constantly in the rearview mirrors.
He had just begun to relax when he noted a dark SUV keeping pace.
Craig realized that his phone was ringing.
Kieran! They needed to keep in touch. If she was calling...
He went to answer his phone.
Too late; it had stopped.
But Mike’s phone was ringing now. Mike picked up.
Craig barely heard him speaking; he was watching the SUV running close behind them. Then it pulled up around them on Craig’s side of the car.
When he looked out the window, he saw that something was leaning past the driver.
Taking aim with a pistol at his face.
* * *
Alyssa had closed her eyes, but she hadn’t passed out. She opened her eyes and reached for Kieran, catching her arm.
“Please, please, watch over the baby...please. Don’t leave him. Don’t leave him until I can take him.”
“It’s okay, help is coming,” Kieran promised.
Alyssa blinked, holding her side.
“Alyssa, an ambulance is coming,” Kieran assured her.
“Thank you. I have to talk. Have to tell you...in case. They’ve been watching me!” she said. “Since that girl, Yulia, came to me... She was so afraid, and so pregnant. She came up to me out of the office, and we’d spoken for hardly any time when she suddenly ran. And I tried to find out more about her. I had inquiries out there... I looked for her...and I think the wrong people might have seen me or overheard me, or found out somehow that I was trying to get involved and help her and her baby.”
“If you can, tell us what happened,” Harding said.
Kieran looked up. Officer Harding was hunkering down. He knew something about emergency medicine; he’d taken a dishcloth and wadded it. He warned her as he pressed it to her, “This will hurt. But, you can’t keep bleeding.”
“Knife wound...side...” Alyssa said.
The little boy wriggled in Kieran’s arms. She was holding him too closely, she realized. He pushed against her, fighting her hold, wanting his mother.
“Your mommy’s there, right there, right with us!” Kieran said, standing the little boy up beside her. “Mommy’s there. Mommy is fine!” she said.
She was a liar. But it was a lie the boy needed at that moment. And she prayed that Alyssa Ryan would be fine once help came, once she had time to heal.
“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” Alyssa said. She managed to get a hand up again, to run it over her toddler’s head.
Tears suddenly filled her eyes. “I should have come forward before. When Esperanza spoke to me... I knew I had to talk to someone. I was trying to find Yulia, figure out what was going on, but...I should have gone to the police, really pushed it, made someone do something.”
And that was all; the EMTs arrived. Kieran wanted to ride in the ambulance, but Alyssa was nearly hysterical, insisting that Kieran look after her son. Kieran would follow the ambulance with Abel Harding and June Chopra so that she could hold onto the boy, whose name was Jerome.
Sirens sounded loud and blaring in the street with Harding driving and staying tight on the ambulance. Naturally by then, Jerome was crying, and Kieran was racking her mind for any nursery rhymes or anything else she could possibly say or sing that might help.
As it happened, June Chopra reached into her purse and produced a toy to hand to the toddler.
“Thomas the Train,” June explained. “Hey, I’ve got a two-year-old nephew,” she said.
It worked; Jerome was happy with the train. There was a song about Thomas that June knew and Jerome knew, and soon, the sound of all of them singing or humming joined with the wail of the sirens.
When they reached the hospital, Kieran realized they were right back where they had been.
As soon as they arrived, Alyssa was rushed in for care. There was nothing to do but wait. And in the waiting room, Kieran suddenly grew anxious.
She still hadn’t spoken with Craig.
She dialed his number.
There was no answer.
She dialed Mike. And, after a second, he picked up.
“Kieran!” he said. “Hey, yeah, busy night, but going well—ah, never mind! Got to call you back!”
She heard gunshots.
And then...
Nothing.