“Exactly,” Chase said. “I’m about twenty minutes out, still following Houston. He’s still using his lights to bypass traffic, so he doesn’t know we know about him yet. I diverted most of our agents from the cemetery out your way. Wait for them.”
Luke came around the bend, his focus immediately reverting to Susannah. Let her be alive. Don’t let me be too late. “We’re coming up on the Vartanians’.” Three Arcadia cruisers and an ambulance were slowly approaching from the other direction and Luke sent mental thanks to Sheriff Corchran. “We have backup. We’re going in.”
Chase blew out a breath. “Be careful. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” Luke was slowing to instruct the backup when he heard the shot. “That came from the house.” Susannah. He jammed the gas and flew into the driveway, screeching to a stop next to Germanio’s car, his heart in his throat. He started running, Pete right behind him.
Chapter Twenty-five
Dutton, Monday, February 5, 1:50 p.m.
Get away. Frantically Susannah scrambled up the stairs as Bobby scrabbled for the gun. The carpet was slick and her cuffed hands couldn’t hang on. A hand clamped on to her ankle and the sound of Bobby’s pleased laughter chilled her blood.
“Got it,” Bobby crowed. “You’re dead, Vartanian.”
A shot split the air and Susannah froze, waiting for the pain. But there was none.
She twisted around, and for a second only blinked, stunned at what she saw. Bobby lay on the stairs, her chin propped on one of the stairs so that she stared up at Susannah, blue eyes wide, a surprised look on her face. A blood stain was spreading on the back of her shirt. Frozen, Susannah watched Bobby lift her gun once again. A second shot rang out and Bobby’s body jolted, then slumped, her blue eyes now blank.
Nearly hyperventilating, her gaze locked with Bobby’s dead stare, Susannah crawled up a few more steps before looking up. Luke stood in the doorway, pale, breathing hard, the gun he clutched hanging limply at his side. Behind him Pete knelt next to Hank’s body. Stiffly, mechanically, Luke walked over to the stairs, reached over Bobby, and took the gun from her hand. He checked her pulse, then looked up to meet Susannah’s eyes, his dark and seething with fear and fury. “She’s dead.”
Relief stripped the air from her lungs, rendered her boneless, and Susannah slumped against the stairs, shaking uncontrollably. Then Luke was lifting her up, wrapping his arms around her, his hold desperate, his whisper fierce. “Did she hurt you?”
“I don’t know.” She burrowed into him, needing him, so scared, shaken. “I don’t think so.” The wave of terror ebbed enough so that she could draw a breath. She pulled back to see his face. “Hank is dead. She killed him. I saw him die.”
“I know. I heard the shot. I thought it was you. I thought you were dead.” Luke’s dark eyes flashed, fury and grief combined. “Hank was supposed to wait for me.”
“No, no. Bobby lured him in. I tried to warn him but it was too late. He was trying to save my life and now he’s dead.” She looked at Pete, who still knelt next to Germanio, his expression stricken. “Bobby shot Talia. She’s under the stairs.”
Pete was heaving his shoulder into the door in the staircase when two uniformed police cautiously approached the open front door.
“Agent Papadopoulos?” one asked, and Luke gently let Susannah go, lowering her to sit on the stair. Beneath them, wood splintered as Pete broke the door free.
“She’s alive,” Pete said, breathless from the effort. “Shit, Talia, you’re a mess.”
Pete leaned into the crawlspace while Luke unlocked Susannah’s handcuffs and rubbed her wrists gently. He let out a slow breath before turning to the officers. “We’re clear,” Luke said, his voice steady again. “We’ll call the crime lab and the ME. Can you call that ambulance up to the house? We need to get Agent Scott to a hospital.”
“No!” Talia’s refusal burst from inside the closet. Susannah heard angry whispers, then Pete crawled out holding the strip of duct tape that had covered Talia’s mouth.
“We’re okay here,” he said to the officers. “Thank you.” When the officers were gone, he pulled Talia from the crawlspace. Her hands and feet were still cuffed. She was still hog-tied. Her slacks were covered in blood, her eyes filled with mortified rage.
“Just get the damn cuffs off,” she gritted. “Please.”
Pete unlocked the cuffs and rolled her to her back. “The medics are coming.”
“No.” Talia pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Bad enough she got me. I’ll walk out on my own two feet.” Luke and Pete each took one of her arms and lifted her. She grimaced, her cheeks red. “This is humiliating,” she muttered.
“What happened?” Luke asked carefully.
Talia’s glare was defiant. “Bitch got the drop on me. Tasered me.”
“How did she get the drop on you?” Pete asked.
Talia lifted her chin, daring them to push her further. “I had something in my eye.”
Tears, Susannah thought, remembering the hitch in Talia’s voice as she’d offered comfort. “Now the bitch is dead,” Susannah murmured. “So is Germanio.”
Talia’s glare faded abruptly. “I heard. I also heard you on the phone with Luke. That was fast thinking. Luke, get Arthur’s journals out of the study. They explain everything. Pete, get me out of here, please, and make me look like I’m walking on my own.”
Pete helped her out, hesitating before he lifted her over Germanio’s body. “Damn it, Hank,” he murmured. “I’ll update Chase, and get a location on the others.”
“What others?” Susannah asked. “Does he mean Charles Grant? I know about him. It’s all in Arthur’s journals. You didn’t find him?”
“Not yet. Can you walk?” Luke asked Susannah.
“Yeah.” Hanging on to the banister, Susannah eased her way past Bobby’s body, resisting the urge to kick her. Luke helped her down the final step, then dragged her close again, arms hard around her. “I’m okay,” she whispered.
“I know.” A shudder shook him. “I just keep seeing her pointing a gun at you, again and again. Susannah, we found some things you need to read.”
“Later,” she said wearily. “I’ve read enough for one day.”
“I’ll take you back to my place. You can have some peace and quiet.”
“I don’t want quiet.” She looked over at Germanio’s body, then quickly looked away. “I don’t want to think. I want… I need supergluing.”
He frowned, puzzled. “What?”
She looked up at him. “Can you take me to your mother’s house, please?”
This made him smile, although his eyes remained worried. “That I can do. Stay here. I’ll get Arthur’s journals, then I’m getting you out of here.” He walked down the hall into the study. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “Susannah, there’s thousands of dollars in this safe.”
“The journals are worth more,” she said. “They’re worth justice,” she added in a murmur, just before her body went rigid, a scream froze in her throat, and a hand clamped over her mouth. A gun was shoved against her temple. Again. Goddammit.
“Which is why those journals will never leave this house.” The words were whispered silkily into her ear. Mr. Grant. “Which is why you’ll never leave this house, my dear.”
Luke went down on one knee to gather the journals from Arthur’s study floor and let his shoulders sag. Oh God. His stomach was rolling. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to wipe from his mind the picture of Susannah clawing up those stairs, Bobby’s gun aimed at her head. She’s safe. He heard the words, but his heart was still thumping to beat all hell. She’s safe. Maybe in a million years, he’d be able to believe it.