Though the ultimate satisfaction of closing this problem was delayed, Erica was actually feeling pretty good. The girl was close. Soon she’d have possession of her, and it would all be over.
“Go get Markle and our guests, and bring them in,” she ordered. “We can tie up the two and lock them in the hallway bathroom for now.”
If I can think of a way to stage it, maybe we could even get rid of them here.
As Clausen started to turn down the hallway, there was thud in the backyard, followed almost instantly by a low groan and what sounded like a hushed voice.
“Wait,” Erica whispered.
She went to the window and carefully moved the curtain just enough so she could see out, but spotted nothing unusual.
“The dog?” Clausen suggested.
If it had only been the thud and the groan, perhaps, but Erica was sure she’d heard a human voice, too.
She let the curtain fall back into place. “We need to check.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY — SEVEN
“Harp!” Barney jumped out of the Jeep as Harp and Alan walked up.
Barney held out his hand, but Harp, being in a hugging mood, wrapped his arms around his old friend.
“I…wasn’t sure we’d see you again,” Barney said once they’d separated.
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure you would, either,” Harp confessed.
“What happened? How did they get you?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. I need your phone first.”
“Uh, sure.” Barney ducked back in and retrieved his cell from the car.
Before he could hand it over, Harp said, “You have Callie’s number, right?”
“Yeah. Is that who you want to call?”
Harp nodded.
Barney fiddled with the buttons for a moment, then gave the phone to Harp. “It’s ringing.”
Harp listened as it rang for a second time.
“Hello?”
“Callie? It’s Harp.”
She drew in a quick breath. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m with Barney now.”
“And Logan?”
“I saw him a minute ago.”
“So what’s happening?”
“Logan wanted me to tell you to call the police and your friend at the FBI, and have them get here as quickly as they can.”
“All right,” she said quickly.
“Wait!”
“What is it?”
“You might want to send an ambulance, too.” At the very least, they’d need it for the jerk on the curb, but he thought it best to be prepared for the worst.
“Oh, God,” Callie said, and clicked off.
“What was that all about?” Barney asked.
“Come on,” Harp said, handing the phone back to Barney. “The three of us have something to do.” He turned to include Alan in the conversation, but Alan wasn’t there. “Where’d he go?”
Barney looked around. “I don’t know. He was here just a moment ago.”
“Alan?” Harp called out as loudly as he dared.
No answer.
“Maybe he went back to the other car,” Harp said. “That’s where we’re supposed to go.” He took a step toward the curb, then stopped and looked back. “I want to get something out of the back of the Jeep first.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY — EIGHT
Now that Harp and Alan were free, and Emily was out of harm’s way, Logan’s only goal was to keep Dr. Paskota and the man with her at the house until the authorities arrived-something he knew would be a hell of a lot easier said than done.
If it hadn’t happened already, the doctor would soon discover no one was home. Once that happened, there were two possibilities-either she would stay in the house and wait, thinking that Rachel and Kurt would return with Emily soon, or she would leave.
If it was the first, great; there was little Logan would have to do. So he concentrated on the second possibility. Better to be prepared than not.
The choke point was the front door. That was the way they’d gone in, and the most logical way they’d come out. So the primary goal would be to keep her from using it.
“Set up in the bushes on either side of the porch,” Logan whispered to Dev and Pep as they ran across the street. “If they try to leave, you make sure they understand that’s not an option. I’ll find a spot in the backyard to make sure they don’t go out that way, either.”
Logan handed Dev his own gun, keeping the one with the suppressor for himself.
He looked at Pep. “Sorry, I only have the two.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get ’em if they run.”
Logan hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Pep might have been mentally prepared to chase the others down, but his broken ribs would have something to say about it.
They crossed the lawn and paused just shy of the porch.
“The idea is not to kill them, but to detain,” Logan whispered.
“At all costs? Or only if possible?” Dev asked.
“If possible. I’m going to-”
A muffled thup-thup came from either the other side of the front door or beyond the house. Though it was difficult to pinpoint, it was a sound Logan had heard before-bullets passing through a silencer. Two, in this case.
He whirled back around.
“Who are they shooting at?” Dev asked.
Logan shook his head. “I have no idea.”
Thup.
A cry of pain.
CHAPTER SEVENTY — NINE
Erica and Clausen exited via the sliding glass door and split up, Clausen going left while she went right.
Scanning the darkness, she looked for any sign of movement. There were no places for anyone to hide against the house or the back of the garage, with the grass running right up to the foundation. Closer to the back of the property, though, along the cinder-block wall that served as the fence, was a metal gardening shed, and beyond it, across the rear of the lot, was a wide section full of bushes and trees and plants.
She headed for the shed first, pausing a few feet away to listen.
Breathing. Faint, either coming from inside the shed or out further in the bushes.
She moved over to the door, but immediately saw the sound couldn’t have been coming from within. The door was padlocked.
Whoever was hiding had to be in the bushes.
She glanced at the other side of the yard. Clausen had headed straight for the planted area on his half, and was working along it in the opposite direction.
Erica clicked her tongue once against the top of her mouth.
Clausen turned, and she motioned to the section of the brush area where she thought the voice had originated. With a nod, Clausen switched directions so they were closing in on the area like a vise.
As Erica inched forward, she looked specifically for any pattern in the shadowy vegetation that didn’t fit.
Movement, subtle at first, then a rush of leaves slapping against each other.
“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” a man said, popping out of the brush, his hands above his head.
He was large, not tall but fat.
“Who the hell are you?” she asked.
“Please don’t hurt me. I haven’t done anything.”
“Answer my question.”
The man hesitated. “Kurt. Kurt Abbott.”
“That name means nothing to me.”
“This…this is my house.”
“Oh, it is, is it? Then tell me, Kurt Abbott, where’s the girl?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Abbott wasn’t a very good liar.
“Step out of the bushes,” Erica said. “Slowly.”
Abbott didn’t move. “Why?”
“I just want to talk to you.”
“Please. Just go. I won’t call the cops or anything.”
Erica’s face hardened. “Get your ass out here. Now.”
As Abbott was about to take a step forward, another man erupted out of a bush just to the right.
Erica and Clausen swung their guns around and pulled their triggers, but both fired in surprise, their shots going wide.