TWENTY-FOUR

Work helped Allison take her mind off her personal problems. On one of her more challenging days, she had a particularly difficult puzzle to solve, and she enjoyed every frustrating minute of it. Once she finally found the source she was looking for, she sent it on to Phillips with her report and sat back to enjoy her accomplishment. There was such satisfaction and contentment to be had after a hard day’s work. As astonishing as it was to admit, she really loved this job. She had even softened in her attitude toward Phillips.

She finished work at five thirty, then went to a yoga class, and didn’t leave the gym until eight. Traffic was a mess as usual. She parked in her spot in the garage and was walking to the elevator with her backpack slung over her shoulder when she noticed the camera that faced the entrance was broken. It was hanging by a couple of wires. She made a mental note to tell the super and went on upstairs.

Stamos was waiting outside her door with a policeman. The doorman was fretting while the policeman was filling out a report.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Stamos rushed to explain. “Someone broke into your apartment.”

Officer Jay Watts asked Allison to walk through each room and let him know what, if anything, was missing.

Allison was shocked when she entered the apartment. The living room had been ransacked, and the desk drawers had been dumped on the floor. Drawers in the bedroom were also open and the contents spilled on the floor.

“If you have any valuables, you might want to check and see if they’re here,” Officer Watts said.

The only thing of value that Allison could think of was her laptop and the program she had been working on. Her computer was still in the bag she was carrying, so it was safe. She rushed to her closet to check the cubby where she hid her backup drive. It was exactly where she’d left it. Her clothes and shoes didn’t appear to have been disturbed.

“I told Officer Watts it was those people who did this,” Stamos told her when she returned to the living room. “Your aunt and uncle. I knew they were trouble the second I saw how they treated their Chrysler. They were here causing another fit downstairs. I had to let them in the lobby because the woman was banging on the glass, and I was worried she was going to break it. I had to help 3A with her packages, but I made sure those relatives of yours had left the premises before I got on the elevator. I’m betting they came back in with another tenant and went on up. I’m sure it was them who did this,” he insisted to the officer.

“If it was your relatives, what were they looking for?” the officer asked Allison.

“Money,” she answered, “or uncashed checks. That’s all they would be interested in.”

Officer Watts finished making notes and then said he would inspect the building for any other break-ins. He’d get back to her if he needed any other information.

Before Stamos left he told her the manager had been alerted and promised the damaged lock on her door would be replaced within the hour.

Allison needed a shower, but she wasn’t going to take one until she had a new lock. While she waited she heated a frozen Hungry-Man dinner and ate a banana and blueberries. An hour later the lock had been repaired, and she was showered and dressed. She was ready to curl up on her sofa and read her e-mails.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to relax because she got another dreaded call from the unit. This time one of the assistants called and insisted the matter was urgent, but then it always was, wasn’t it? She was also told it wouldn’t take long, which made her laugh. Her laptop and purse went into her backpack, phone and keys in her hand, and she was on her way. She had just pulled onto the highway when a car came barreling up behind her. Had she not floored the engine and gotten out of his way, he would have rear-ended her. Traffic was congested as usual, and it wasn’t until she turned onto another highway that she noticed the car again. She couldn’t tell what the make or model was. It looked like a dark-colored SUV with tinted windows. The highway was four lanes, and there was plenty of room for him, but she still moved to the far lane to get away from him. She glanced in the rearview mirror several times and couldn’t see him and assumed he had sped on.

Suddenly he was there, right behind her, riding her bumper, and as she was turning onto the exit ramp, he tapped the side of her car. She barely had time to react before he hit her again, harder this time. Why was this happening? Was it road rage? And, if so, how had she incited the driver? As she swerved to avoid a third hit, her phone flew across the car seat. She grabbed it and pushed speed dial to get Phillips. Careering on two wheels, her car turned onto the gravel road leading to the cyber unit. The crazy car was still right behind her.

Phillips answered on the first ring, and she could tell from the echo he had it on speaker. He sounded as impatient as ever.

“It’s Allison. I need help. Someone’s trying to run me off the road. He’s hit me twice . . . no, three times now.”

“Where are you?” Liam asked the question.

She was so shocked to hear his voice, she didn’t answer.

“Where are you?” he demanded again.

“About a mile and a half out. I just turned onto the gravel road.” It was the perfect place for a carjacking, scrub trees on both sides of the road, not a house in sight. She was all alone. “Oh God, here he comes again.”

“Try to stay ahead of him,” Phillips said.

“Liam . . .”

“He’s on his way to you,” Phillips told her. “Keep your head low. Don’t be a target. Help is coming.” His voice was calming, and that freaked her out almost as much as being hit.

Don’t be a target? Did he think the maniac driver might have a gun? She didn’t have a chance to ask him what he meant. She got hit again, and this time it was spot-on. The angle was perfect. She lost control of her car and started spinning around and around. She couldn’t get the car to stop and made the mistake of hitting the brakes hard. That error sent her flying down a hill. The dead bushes didn’t impede her fall. The fat tree stump did. It was only a couple of feet high, but the car hit it full on and flipped over again and again. She felt as though she were in a barrel, rolling down a hill. Her backpack landed on her chest just a second before her airbag deployed. It took most of the impact and protected her.

She became a firm believer in miracles at that very moment. The car landed upright. Both sides were caved in; glass from the shattered windshield was all over the bucket seats; the tires were blown . . . and she didn’t have a scratch on her. Her laptop had fallen out of the bag and, crushed by the imploding car door, lay in pieces on the floor. She thought she might be dead and just didn’t know it yet. She whispered a prayer and tried to calm her racing heartbeat. She realized then she was perfectly fine except for one little thing. She couldn’t seem to let go of the steering wheel.

When she looked up through the broken windshield, she could see headlights on the hill. They quickly retreated and she could hear the car zoom away. The sky went black, and it was eerily quiet. Then suddenly there were spotlights shining down on her. She heard Liam calling her name. He sounded frantic. If she hadn’t heard his voice, she would have panicked. She was already thinking about the gas tank blowing up. That usually happened in movies with car chases, didn’t it? Of course the driver was usually killed, and here she sat, as fit as ever.

The seat belt was jammed, and the window wouldn’t open, but Liam got her out. He had to break the side glass and cut the belt. He also had to peel her hands away from the steering wheel. His expression was grim, and yet he was being so gentle with her as he lifted her through the window. Phillips was there, too, and he looked almost as worried as Liam. How had they gotten there so fast?

Liam didn’t let go of her. He held her tight against him. She could feel him shaking when he asked, “Are you all right? Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“I’m fine,” she said, surprised she could raise her voice to little more than a whisper.

“Whoever did this to you . . .”

Hoping to calm him, she motioned for him to put her down. She brushed herself off and said, “All right, then. I’m going to need a ride.”

Phillips actually smiled, a first for him, but Liam still looked as though he wanted to go to war. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders for support and said, “You’re going to the hospital. You could have internal bleeding . . . a brain injury . . . or a—”

“I am not going to the hospital,” she argued. “I didn’t hit my head, and my backpack protected me from the airbag.” It wasn’t until she got a good look at her car that she started shaking. Then she spotted the remains of her laptop. “My computer . . . ,” she began.

“We’ll take care of that for you,” Phillips assured her.

It really was a miracle she survived without a single injury. “I’m fine, Liam,” she protested. “And I most assuredly am not bleeding internally.”

“Unless you have X-ray vision, you can’t know if you’re bleeding or not.”

She was going to have to put her foot down. “I’m not going to the hospital. Understand?”

He took her to the hospital. All of her protests were completely ignored, and that didn’t surprise her. He never listened to her. She told him just that as the nurse was pushing her into a wheelchair in the emergency room. She was poked and prodded, x-rayed and scanned, and finally declared perfectly fit. The physician in charge lingered by the side of her bed after giving her the good news.

“Was there something more?” Allison asked. “Have you thought of yet another test you’d like to run?”

He smiled. “No, you’re good to go. I was just thinking . . .”

“Yes?” she asked, wondering why he was hesitating.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” He handed her a card with his cell phone number on it. “Call me. Anytime.”

She didn’t know what to say. She took the card, thanked him for taking care of her, and decided to get Liam out of there as quickly as possible. He was staring at the doctor and looking quite incredulous.

“I’m standing right here,” he announced with a good deal of irritation as the doctor walked out of the cubicle.

“He saw you, Agent Scott,” Allison said.

Liam sat on the side of the bed and draped his arm around her to pull her toward him. Had the doctor still been there, he would have kissed Allison, just to let him know she wasn’t available.

He guessed he should let Allison know it first. “We need to talk,” he said.

“When did you get back from Berlin?” she asked at the very same time.

He didn’t answer, because the nurse came to discharge her at that moment. Allison insisted that he take her to the office. She knew Phillips would have a hundred questions and she wanted to get the interrogation over as quickly as possible. She waited until they were alone and sitting in Phillips’s office to ask Liam what he had wanted to talk about.

“You and me,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, we aren’t. There is no you and me. We’re in a nonrelationship, and that’s over.”

He leaned against the desk and smiled. “If we’re in a nonrelationship, how can it be over?”

He would use logic. She shrugged. “I don’t know. It just is.” She sat down. “I’m through talking about this.”

“I’m not.”

Phillips entered the office and interrupted. She braced herself for the inquisition.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She was shocked by the sympathy she heard in his voice. She didn’t want him to be kind to her. She liked him just the way he usually was. Maybe she had hit her head after all, because she wasn’t making much sense. She started to answer that she was perfectly fine, but when she looked down, she noticed her hands were shaking almost violently. “It’s been quite an evening,” she began.

“Of course it has,” Phillips agreed. “Flying down that hill—”

“I wish that was all that happened to me today,” she sighed.

Liam stood and with a worried frown asked, “What else?”

“When I got home from the gym, the doorman was waiting with a police officer. Someone had broken into my apartment.”

Liam’s jaw clenched. Not a good sign, she decided. She didn’t have to guess why he was out of sorts.

“And you’re just now mentioning this?” he asked

She didn’t care for his condescending tone. “Yes, I’m just now mentioning this.”

“Do you think the home invasion and your road incident might be related?” Phillips asked. Like Liam’s, his voice was also strained.

Allison was getting the feeling both of them wanted to yell at her. She tried to justify her actions. “Yes, I know I’m supposed to call you, Agent Phillips, if there are ever any problems, but nothing was taken from my apartment, and there was already a policeman taking a report, so I didn’t think it was necessary to bother you. I’m pretty certain I know who it was. My aunt and uncle.”

Her new announcement led to another round of questions, and by the time Liam finished with her, she felt like an imbecile. Just because Stamos guessed her aunt and uncle were responsible didn’t make it so.

Liam rubbed his brow as if trying to wipe away a headache. “So you’ve figured it was your aunt and uncle at your apartment.”

Feeling backed into a corner, she said, “Yes.”

He nodded, then asked, “What reason do you have for being run off the road?”

“I was thinking it was probably road rage.”

“Road rage.” Phillips repeated her words and dropped into his chair. “What could you have done to make the driver come after you like that?” Frowning, he asked, “Were you texting?”

Was he blaming her? “Of course I was texting,” she countered. “I always text while I drive. Oh, and I was putting on lipstick and mascara, so I had to adjust the mirror. . . .” She couldn’t think of anything else outrageous to tell him.

Phillips didn’t look amused. “This is a serious matter.”

“Yes, it is,” she agreed.

“I’ve taken care of the police report on your car,” he said then.

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t road rage,” Liam said.

She stared at him for several seconds, letting the events of the last few hours sink in. “They’re related, aren’t they? But how? Do you have any theories?”

“Several, as a matter of fact,” he said. “We’ll find who did this,” he added with a granite voice. “And when we do . . .”

Afraid he would say something crazy in front of Phillips, she stood and said, “We’re finished, right? Do you want me to work or go home? I should go home.” And before Phillips could answer, she said, “I’m going home. I need to go home.”

She was beginning to feel a delayed reaction to the effects of her near miss. Her hands were still shaking so much she knew she wouldn’t be able to type, and she felt weak. Liam saw how pale she’d become and grabbed her before she could fall.

She was walking out the door with Liam holding her arm when she turned back. “Where’s my laptop?”

“The techs have it,” Phillips said. “It was pretty banged up. They’ll see what they can salvage.”

“Thank you,” she said.

—

The first she noticed that Liam had her backpack and phone was when he opened her apartment door for her. He must have gotten them out of the car, she thought, or maybe she’d held them when he pulled her through the window. She was too tired to figure it out now.

Liam led her to her bed and pulled the covers back. Within seconds of laying her head on the pillow, she was sound asleep.

When she opened her eyes again, she looked at her alarm clock and saw that several hours had passed. She could hear Liam’s voice in the living room. He was on the phone. He was always on his phone, it seemed. His job didn’t let up. She couldn’t tell whom he was talking to, but she caught snippets of his conversation. She heard part of a question about an underground cell and another about an informer. He kept his voice low and she couldn’t make out anything else. The minute he ended one call, another came in. She honestly didn’t know how he could keep up with it all. She knew he was in a high-pressure job, one that was very important, but she also knew it was impossible for one person to handle so many responsibilities. Even Liam. He sounded tired. No matter how much stamina he had, he would eventually crash. Allison got scared thinking about it.

She got out of bed and stood in the doorway until he noticed her. “Liam, when did you get back from Berlin?” she asked.

His phone rang and he quickly answered it with “I’ll be right there” before giving her his full attention. She could see the weariness in his eyes.

“Allison, I’m afraid our talk is going to have to wait,” he said.

“Answer my question. When did you get back from Berlin?”

“A week ago.”