Chapter 14 #2
“Chris?” The cold seemed to infiltrate Mary’s body, filling her belly with dread. Her father was a grown man with a military background, capable of defending himself to some extent. Chris was a teen, friendly to everyone. “What do you mean Chris is missing?”
“He went to the post office in Fairbanks. I haven’t seen him since.”
Santa in hiding, Chris missing, mysterious visits to post offices in other towns...all the conspiracies jumbled in Mary’s mind until she couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. “Why was Chris in Fairbanks?”
“I dropped Chris off before I went in to see Reuben. The boy was supposed to check for a package your father expected and meet me at the hospital. I waited for four hours and he never showed. I drove by the post office and didn’t see him. That’s when I came back here.”
“Why wouldn’t my father have his package delivered to the North Pole post office?”
“He didn’t want anyone to intercept it. He said it was very important.”
Important enough to kill for. Mary squeezed Betty’s fingers, warming them with her own, trying to reassure the older woman, when she felt no certainty of her own. “What time of day did you drop Chris off in Fairbanks?”
“An hour after we talked this morning. He should have been back by now.” Betty dropped Mary’s hands, crossed to the windows and peered around the curtains. “I’m so afraid for him.”
A thought sprang to the forefront of her mind and Mary glanced at Nick. “We’ll see what we can find out. If you hear from Chris, will you call us as soon as possible?”
Nick scribbled his cell number on a piece of paper and handed it to Betty. “Lock your doors and windows. If anyone tries to get in, call 9-1-1 immediately.”
“Am I in danger?”
As if sensing her owner’s distress, the yellow tabby wound herself around Ms. Betty’s legs, mewling softly.
“Until we catch Mr. Feegan’s killer, assume the worst.” Nick strode for the door.
Mary shrugged and zipped her coat halfway up. “If someone saw fit to kill Mr. Feegan for harboring my father, who knows what else he might be willing to do? Stay safe. We’ll find Chris.” She hugged her close.
“Would you? I’m so afraid for the boy. He’s never out of pocket without telling someone where he’s going.”
Once outside, with the door firmly closed between them and Ms. Betty, Mary marched for the car. “My bet is that the package contains Frank Richards’ memoirs.”
Nick nodded. “Agreed. And whatever is in them must be controversial enough to kill for.”
“Someone has incentive to stop that manuscript from being seen, but who?”
Nick’s cell phone played the Mission: Impossible theme. He unlocked the car and seated Mary before he answered the call. “Yeah.”
“Got the ballistics on the bullet that killed Frank Richards. It's a match with a murder in Dallas two months ago. The man killed was one of the men in the photograph.
"Have you located the others?"
"Two of the men died of heart attacks within the past ten years and another died in a car wreck shortly after he returned from his tour in Bosnia. That leaves just three."
Nick's fingers tightened on the cell phone as he rounded the back of the car. "Charles Mercer, Taylor Rayburn and Gordon Thomas."
"That's right. And Nick." Royce paused. "Both Richards and the Dallas murders were precision exterminations. We've seen five others like it. Using the same weapon and M.O."
"Are the other victims linked to our men from Charles Mercer's unit?" Nick reached for the car door handle.
"No. One of them was the wife of a foreign diplomat. The diplomat eventually confessed to hiring a hit man to eliminate her. He said he'd hired a man going by the name Cobra.”
Nick's hand froze, anger and fear welling up in his chest.
Mary rubbed her hands up and down her arms to keep warm.
A chill settled over Nick, colder than any arctic blast.
"Nick? Did you copy?"
"Copy."
"Clue Kat in. I'm pulling Sam off his current assignment in Portland. He should be there by tomorrow morning. I'm hopping a plane as we speak. I should be there early tomorrow as well. Don't be a hero, wait for backup."
"Roger." Like hell. If Cobra was anywhere around, every man, woman and child in a one-hundred-mile radius could be in danger. Collateral damage was part of the fun to the psycho hit man.
A wave of anger and nausea rolled over him.
Nick’s former FBI partner had gotten in the way of Cobra’s paycheck when he’d took a security detail for a federal witness in a Bethesda, Maryland.
The witness, her child and Nick’s partner didn’t live to tell what exactly happened, but the compromised safehouse was a bloodbath on all fronts.
An FBI insider had leaked the location but was never identified.
He’d arrived at the end of the shooting.
Too late to save anyone. Too late to catch Cobra.
Devastated and suffering severe survivor’s guilt, Nick lost his stomach for the FBI.
He’d turned in his service weapon and credentials and walked away.
Royce had found him working a bodyguard-for-hire assignment in D.C.
and offered him a job he couldn’t refuse.
Nick never looked back. He didn’t have to look back, images of what Cobra had done to his partner, the woman and the child would live on forever in his memories. And to think, the maniac was here.
Nick jerked open the car door and climbed in. His heart raced, pounding blood against his eardrums.
Mary leaned across the console and laid a hand on his arm.
He inhaled slowly and released the air.
“Who was that on the phone?” Mary’s fingers gripped Nick’s arm.
“That was my boss. The man after your father is a monster and he won’t stop until he eliminates his target.”
Mary’s face blanched, her hand sliding off Nick’s arm into her lap. “Eliminates? Like Bob Feegan?”
“And Frank Richards.”
Her head shook back and forth as if in slow motion. “I knew he was in trouble, especially after what happened to Reuben and Mr. Feegan, but you’re really scaring me now.” Her eyes remained dry, but the color didn’t return to her face.
“I’m taking you to the chief’s office and you’re going to stay there until Kat and I find the man behind all this.” He shifted into drive.
Before he could pull out into the street, Mary grabbed his arm. “We have to bring Ms. Betty. She’s not any safer than me or the others.”
Nick nodded. “I’ll be right back.” He opened his door but didn’t get out. “Maybe you should come with me.”
“You’re only going to be a moment. I’ll be fine. I’ll duck low in the seat, so no one sees me.” She leaned toward the console. “See? No problem. Just hurry, it’s cold out here.”
Nick stared at the house and back at Mary.
She smiled and waved at him. “Go on.”
He climbed out of the car and half ran, half slid all the way back to Betty Reedy’s front door. He raised his fist and banged.
“Wh-who’s there?” A curtain fluttered in the window beside the door. “Nick?” Then the door flung open and Ms. Betty stood there, wringing her hands. “What’s wrong? Why are you back so soon?”
“It’s not safe for you to stay by yourself. You need to come with us.” Nick hooked her arm and tried to walk her through the door.
The old woman dug her feet into the welcome mat. “Where are we going?”
“To camp out at the police station until this is all settled. Come on.”
“What if Charles or Chris returns?” Ms. Reedy pulled her arm out of Nick’s grasp. “I need to be here.”
“Leave a note.” Nick reached out to grab her arm again, but she dodged him.
“I can’t go without my medications and a change of clothing. Wait here.”
The longer Ms. Reedy took, the more frustrated Nick became. He stood on the stoop, staring into the darkness. A lone security light shone half a block away, casting a cone of light around its base.
“Can you help me with this cat carrier? I can’t leave Cookie here to fend for herself.”
“Ms. Reedy, leave the cat. We can have someone come check on it tomorrow.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t leave her. Not with what happened to Reuben’s home.”
Nick wanted to tell the woman to stay with her damned cat, but one look at her distress and he couldn’t. To her, the cat was family and, like everyone in this godforsaken frozen land, she wouldn’t leave family behind in a dangerous situation. No manner of arguing would change the woman’s mind.
With one backward glance at the car, Nick strode through the hallway into the living room where Ms. Betty had loaded her whale of a cat in a carrier half the size it needed. He bit down on his tongue and hefted the crate. “Let’s go.” The cat hissed and spat at him.
“Cookie isn’t used to being in her crate. She gets grumpy.”
With the carrier in one hand, Nick scooped up Ms. Reedy’s suitcase and marched out into the snow.
Ms. Betty skipped to keep up, a worried frown denting her forehead.
When Nick reached the car, he jerked the back door open and dumped the suitcase and the carrier into the backseat.
That’s when he noticed the front seat was empty.