Chapter Eighteen
Mollie held Spence’s phone gently. She hadn’t spoken to her father for twelve days. Not since Great-Aunt Irma had passed away and Mollie’s life journey had turned into a landscape that was both terrifying and thrilling.
Ever since she went into WITSEC, Dad had been her anchor. His presence grounded her and kept her attached to reality. Sure, he occasionally lapsed into absent-mindedness. What professor and art historian didn’t? But Hiram Harper had been the only person she trusted.
“Dad?”
“Mollie, sweetheart, this might sound improbable and fantastical, but you have to listen to me and do what I say.”
She gazed at Spence sitting beside her on the stairstep with his knees bent at an unnatural angle.
Though he didn’t return her look and instead stared down at the hardwood floor at the foot of the staircase, he rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
They connected. She wasn’t alone. Spence was here for her.
Though she’d only known him for a day, she knew he’d protect her.
If necessary, he’d give his life for her.
“What is it, Dad?”
“Two days ago, Madison called me. I didn’t believe her at first. I was flabbergasted. The whole world turned upside down, and I was somehow talking to my daughter who had died.”
Mollie was reassured that Dad hadn’t known about Madison until recently. She would have been hurt if he had kept her sister’s survival a secret from him.
Sticking to practical concerns, she asked, “How did she get your phone number? I thought you’d disappeared, and I had no way of reaching you.”
“No one has this number.” She heard the confusion in his voice. When confronted with too much reality, Dad slipped a gear. He wasn’t a strong personality, never had been, especially after her mother died. “I only use burner phones once and then throw them away.”
When he explained the plan Spence had already told her, she found it hard to believe. Using burner phones so cleverly didn’t sound like Dad. Not at all. “Who taught you how to do that?”
“Marshal Tim Youngblood,” he said confidently. “He even gave me a stack of phones.”
Swell! Dad was taking advice from a double-crossing fed who had ties to both Madison and Julio. “When you hang up, throw away all the phones. Buy a new one and send the number to Spence at this phone.”
“Okay, but Marshal Youngblood said—”
“Just do it.”
Youngblood had probably been working for Madison when he supplied Dad with the many burners. All along, Madison had the means to contact him. Or me. She could have used Youngblood as a messenger.
For some reason, she’d chosen to remain silent. Waiting for…what? Giving her the benefit of the doubt, Mollie tried to believe her sister had been protecting and shielding their father and her.
“Can I call back to Madison?” he asked.
“You can only talk to me and Spence,” she said. “Now tell me where you are.”
“Do you remember Oliver Cameron, Spence’s grandpa?”
“Yes.” Had her father been in the house when she was there yesterday? Why was he hiding from her? What had Madison told him?
“I’m staying with his housekeeper, Anita Hernandez, in her cottage on Oliver’s estate.”
“How in the world did that happen?”
“I’ve known Anita for years. Don’t you remember going to Oliver’s house for dinner? Chinese-Mexican fusion? Anyway, I thought she might be a good person to stay with. It’s pleasant and gratifying to be back in Oregon where I have such wonderful memories.”
“Have you spoken to Spence’s grandpa?”
“Not yet. I wanted to lay low and stay out of sight.”
“Good decision, Dad.”
During their conversation, he’d settled down.
Mollie had five years’ experience handling her sometimes moody, artsy father—a man who had witnessed a Peligro drug transaction and two brutal murders but could still work himself into a frenzy during a visit to an art museum.
“Mollie, while we’re here, I’d like to go to the beach.
Your mother and I loved to watch the waves in Manzanita. ”
She murmured an assent. “Now, what did you call to tell me?”
“This is what your sister told me. And she has no reason to lie, right?”
Mollie couldn’t begin to list all the reasons her twin might lie. “What did Madison say?”
“Much to my chagrin,” he said, sounding like a nobleman in a cheesy, Victorian novel, “she is still involved with that scoundrel Julio Flores.”
“What else is new?”
“Julio is angry with you. Something about pepper spray. In any case, he has decided to take his revenge. You should leave the place where you are staying immediately. Julio has planted a bomb.”
“A bomb.” Mollie bounced to her feet so quickly that she might have fallen down the staircase if Spence hadn’t caught her. “Here? He planted a bomb here?”
“That’s what your sister said. She told me to warn you, and she sounded serious.”
While running back up the stairs and diving into Spence’s bedroom, Mollie repeated her instructions to Dad about getting rid of the phones provided by Youngblood and staying safely hidden in the cottage belonging to Mrs. Hernandez.
She ended the call, turned to Spence and pointed to his computer. “Contact Jamison right away. Madison told Dad that Julio had planted a bomb here. At this house.”
“I don’t believe it,” he said. “This safe house has intense surveillance and motion-activated sensors that cover every angle of the house and the property. There’s an electronics room downstairs, which is constantly monitored.
Nobody got in here unnoticed. Also, there are keypad locks and deadbolts on the doors.
More sensors on the windows. An unauthorized person would trigger a blast of noise. ”
She was glad to see he was wearing his shoulder holster. “We can’t ignore the warning. Can we go downstairs and check the electronics?”
“We’ll make sure everything is okay. And we’ll look at the separate garage, as well.” He folded her into his arms. “It’s possible that your sister was using the threat for another reason.”
His logic felt too easy to believe. “Like what?”
“She or Julio might have wanted to drive us out of the house in a panic. We already know Julio has a sniper in his employ. A sharpshooter could be hiding in the trees, waiting to pick us off when we come out the door.”
“Not much of a choice,” she said. “We can be blown up or shot down.”
“Or Madison’s warning got to us in time. We all survive and live happily ever after.”
His hug and his calm, practical attitude should have soothed her rising panic, but she still didn’t feel totally safe. She trotted down the staircase at his side while filling him in on Dad’s whereabouts.
“He’s staying with Mrs. Hernandez?” Spence shook his head. “Do they have a romantic thing going on?”
“Doubtful,” Mollie said. “Dad is a dedicated, lifelong monogamist. The only woman he’s ever cared about in a sensual way is my mother.”
They made a detour through the kitchen, where Thornton transferred a tray of fragrant cinnamon rolls from the oven to the countertop. Spence grabbed a bagel already smeared with cream cheese. Mollie was hungry but didn’t think she could eat while her stomach curdled with anxiety.
At a closed door beside the downstairs library and office, Spence glared at the keypad. “Green light. Not a good sign. It means the alarm is off.”
He handed her the bagel, drew his Beretta and twisted the unlocked handle.
The door flew open. Inside, she saw three solid walls of electronics: screens, sensors, dials and switches.
Several of the screens were blank. Sitting in their midst was a security guy with his wrists fastened behind the back of the chair with zip ties and silver duct tape over his mouth.
His eyes were closed. Unconscious, she hoped.
“Now you can panic,” Spence said.
And she did. But first, Mollie noticed a small green symbol in the corner of each otherwise blank screen. A four-leaf clover. A message directed toward her. A reason to hope.
Spence went into action, freeing the guy in the chair, who was still breathing but barely conscious.
He called for Thornton, who dashed into the room with his weapon drawn and ready.
When Spence told Thornton there was a bomb in the house and possibly in the garage, the young man moved fast. Everyone needed to be immediately evacuated.
But there might also be snipers outside.
While Spence hoisted the unconscious security man over his shoulder and went through the kitchen to the rear exit, Mollie took a bite from the bagel. Might be her last nourishment before the bomb exploded.
One of the SUVs pulled up to the house, and they loaded the unconscious guy inside. Though he had no visible contusions or injuries, he must have been drugged and was in need of medical attention.
The others dispersed quickly. Mollie caught glimpses of them slipping through the sheltering moss-covered trees, disappearing into shadows.
They all were armed—some with rifles—and she wished she had her own weapon.
Nobody spoke, but they all knew what to do.
As though they were thinking with one mind, heading in the direction of a meadow.
Their actions followed a preprogrammed plan with some being the front line while others brought up the rear.
Mollie huddled near the middle, sticking close to Quintana.
Mollie whispered, “How many were in the house and garage?”
“Six, not counting you and Spence. Everybody got out.” She pulled a G43 from her ankle holster and gave it to Mollie. “You know how to use this, right?”
“I do. Thank you.”
At a signal from Spence, they stopped and ducked down.
Watching and waiting in the forest, a heavy silence fell over them.
None of the usual chirps and whistles echoed from the birds and wildlife.
Even the wind through the trees had gone still.
In the quiet before the storm, she knew something was going to happen.
Spence crept through the undergrowth and crouched beside her. He pulled her away from the rest of the group and whispered, “This was an inside job.”
“I know.” Guilt flooded through her.
“An outsider couldn’t have gotten through my security measures. They would have been checked and turned around. But if it was Madison…” He pushed her hair off her forehead. “They would assume it was you. Nobody would have stopped you, Mollie. They’d recognize you on sight.”
“I know.”
“You could go anywhere on the grounds or in the safe house.”
Which had to be what her twin had done. Mollie didn’t want to believe it. She knew she wasn’t responsible for her sister’s actions but couldn’t help feeling like she was somehow at fault. “You saw the four-leaf clover on the darkened screens. Madison left that for me. Like a signature.”
She heard a loud popping noise. Gunfire.
She couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
A sniper. Another shot. They must have been fifty yards away from the safe house.
All around them, the tree branches, bushes and ferns rustled as the security team searched for the shooters. Some of them returned fire.
She heard a cry. Someone had been hit.
A ferocious explosion shattered the air.
Flames danced across the first floor of the cabin.
Heat shimmered in the air. The leaves and branches trembled.
Turning away from the flickering orange-and-yellow fire that tore through the house, she peered into the darkness of the forest, looking for shooters.
A second concussive blast—twice as loud as the first—blew out all the windows, hurling shards of glass toward them.
A deafening roar erupted. More flames, a virtual wall of fire.
Black smoke poured into the forest. A third explosion hit the garage.
Mollie saw the Escalade and another vehicle burst into flames.
There was no means of escape. They were trapped here.
A searing pain stabbed into her left shoulder. She’d been hit.