28
Emily gasped as her captor turned into the driveway of a gated estate, and she leaned forward, taking in as much of it as she could. Not because she appreciated the beauty, but because she needed an escape route.
Unfortunately, all she saw were rolling hills surrounded by a wrought-iron fence with a pointy spike at the tip of each piece.
The vehicle pulled around back and her driver killed the engine. “Try to run and I’ll shoot you in the back.”
“Kind of defeats the purpose of not killing me in the water when you had the chance, doesn’t it?”
He scowled. “Get out.”
Emily did so, refusing to acknowledge her pounding heart and wobbly knees. She needed to get a message to Brady or 911 or someone, but how to do that wasn’t clear. She had no phone again and the man who’d taken her from the lake didn’t appear inclined to share his.
She let him guide her toward the back entrance. He kept a hand on her upper arm, but his grip didn’t hurt. Fear wanted to send her running, the knowledge that it wouldn’t do a bit of good propelled her forward.
Just inside the back door off the garage, a set of steps led down. “Go down,” he said.
Stomach churning, she started down, only the knife at her side gave her the courage to continue. At the bottom of the steps, she stopped. A large wooden door at the bottom stood cracked open. “Inside,” he said and pushed it open over her shoulder.
Emily grappled for control of her terror while ordering her heart to slow its frantic pace. She stepped over the threshold and gasped, barely managing to contain the shriek clawing to escape.
The man tied to the chair rolled his head at the sound, but his eyes remained closed. “No more,” he said. “Please, no more.”
She looked at the contents on the plastic that covered the floor, then looked away before she threw up. The poor man’s face ran red as did his exposed chest. But wait . . . she steeled herself and took another look at the battered face. “Jeremy?”
His lids fluttered and he squinted, as though having a hard time focusing. “Emily?”
“Oh my . . . Jeremy . . .” What could she say? Or do? For so long she’d hated him, but now . . . pity filled her. And maybe even compassion.
A man stepped out of the shadows, the knife in his right hand clearly used recently. “Paul Bailey,” she whispered his name. “You killed Todd and Snake Man . . . uh . . . Grant Hudson.”
“Well, not me personally, but I have very efficient hired assassins. Take Jake over there. Former special forces, sniper, diver, and bomb expert all rolled into one—and worth every penny.”
“You killed Heather.” Fury rose, almost obliterating the fear racing in her veins.
“Actually, I didn’t. You can thank Jeremy for that one. He went out on his own and hired Burnett. I only found out about it later.”
“Because Heather had seen him at the lake. How’d she know he was there?”
“Apparently, she’d been following him. The Tuesday before she was killed, we talked a good bit. She was very angry with that man in the chair because of some past misdeed he’d committed against a friend of hers and had taken it upon herself to follow him. When she came upon him, he’d stolen the boat and taken it out to Carrington.”
Heather had been following Jeremy because of Emily. The knowledge was like a kick in the stomach.
“How did you discover all this?” If she kept him talking, maybe she could think of a way out. Although, with only one small window in the corner, she wasn’t sure what that would be.
“Heather had her laptop in the car and had a document open where she was writing her story and making notes. It was very informative.”
A throat cleared from behind him and Emily’s eyes probed the shadows of the room. “I think that’s enough talking,” Paul said. “You can die now.”
What? “No, wait a minute, something’s not adding up. Please? A few more questions?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, answer her questions, Paul,” the man in the shadows said. “Then you can kill her, get your pictures, and we can be done with all of this. You brought her here to brag about how you bested Todd, so get on with it.”
Paul scowled. “Fine. What questions?”
“You hired Martin Burnett and Owen Parker to kidnap me, right?”
“No. That was Jeremy’s doing. I didn’t want you or Heather dead at first. Unfortunately, Jeremy was quick to act and had Heather killed before I could get to her.”
“Because he didn’t want you to know the location of the boat.”
“Yes.”
“Burnett told him about the pictures on Heather’s phone that she texted to me.”
Emily rubbed a hand across her head and realized she still had on the hood. She shoved it back. “So, Todd wanted me alive to get the location and later the flash drive from the boat and you wanted me dead in order to prevent that.”
“Yes.”
“Then why bring me here?”
His eyes flickered. “Because you have been a major thorn in my side. And I wanted you to see who the better brother was.”
“What?”
“And now that you know, I think I’m going to allow my friend to get rid of you. You caused him quite a bit of stress too.” He turned to the man he’d called friend. “Would you like the honors?”
The man in the corner stepped out of the shadows.
She gaped. “Who are you?”
He gave a slight bow. “Nicholas Jeffrey Raimes at your service. Childhood friend to Paul and Todd Bailey. Also known affectionately as Jeff by those who love him.”
His hand lifted, the gun aimed at her, then he shifted it slightly and pulled the trigger. She ducked and covered her ears just as the second shot sounded, then the third.
When she stood, Jake lay on the floor behind her, Paul in front of her, and Jeremy stared with blank eyes at the ceiling.
In horror, Emily turned to the man now aiming at her once more.
Linc pulled to a stop at the gated entrance while a helicopter hovered overhead, the blades pounding in time with the beat of Brady’s runaway heart. If they had guessed wrong, Emily could die. There’d been no time to do a reconnaissance of the place to confirm she was here.
But it was the only thing that made sense. “So, Annie sent me some interesting information. Paul and Todd’s maternal grandparents were millionaires,” Linc said above the sound of the rotor. “They moved here in the midsixties and built this mansion. They cut off their daughter when she refused to marry the man they’d picked out for her but reconciled when the twins were born. Then the parents split and Paul stayed with his father while Todd stayed with his mother. Todd and his mother moved in here but were soon kicked out because of Todd’s wild ways. Paul came knocking after his father died, and everyone says Paul and his grandparents were very close and he inherited this place when his grandmother passed. His grandfather is now in a nursing facility suffering from dementia. He’s had no visitors in the ten years he’s been there.”
Disgust twisted Brady’s gut. Paul Bailey had made millions in the human trafficking industry, working with Jeremy Hightower, Martin Burnett, and Owen Parker. Phone records indicated that Burnett and Jeremy Hightower were in constant communication with one another.
“I pray we’re right about this,” Brady said.
“You’re praying again?”
“I am.”
“Emily’s influence?”
“Yes.”
“I like her.”
“So do I.”
Linc lifted his phone to his ear. “Annie? Yeah. We’re here. Do your stuff.”
The gates began their slow open. Linc shot through and the mixture of law enforcement behind them stayed close. “Annie? Are the cameras out?”
“They are. For a short time anyway.”
They followed the curving drive, stopping short of the house. SWAT spilled from their van to fan out around the property.
“Blueprints?” Linc asked.
“On your phone,” Annie said.
“I’ve tapped into the security cameras inside the house. I’m not seeing any movement on the first or second floors, but there are three cars in the garage as well as a motorcycle. A THU is on the way with FLIR. As soon as it gets there, we’ll know exactly how many warm bodies we’re dealing with and where they are.”
The FBI’s Tactical Helicopter Unit with FLIR. Forward Looking InfraRed. Only the best for the bureau in heat-seeking technology.
“Got a vehicle at the back. Running the plates,” a voice said through the COMMS.
“Looks like the house is empty, according to the cameras,” Annie said. “But hold tight. Let me keep looking.”
The chopper announced its approach, the blades whomp-whomping far above them. But he knew they already had their heat-seeking FLIR trained on the home. Soon, they should know something specific. Brady’s heart thundered. What if they were wrong? Would Emily die because they couldn’t find her fast enough? No. No she wouldn’t. Please, God, protect her.
Hands held in front of her, Emily obeyed the command to sit at the computer. She kept her right side away from him, waiting for her opportunity to use the knife. If she could. She thought if he was going to kill her—and she had no doubt that was how it was all supposed to end—she could do what she had to do to protect herself. The irony hadn’t escaped her. In the past, she’d used knives, razors, or even a sharp fingernail to cut herself. And now the knife might be the very thing that allowed her to live.
He handed her the flash drive and she inserted it in the USB port before the order left his mouth. She clicked on the icon and a document full of numbers displayed on the screen.
Wait a minute, she knew that routing number.
“They are.”
“With a lot of money in them.” She cut her eyes to him. “Compliments of the human trafficking business?”
“Clever girl.”
She stared up at him. “You pitted them against each other, didn’t you?”
“It wasn’t hard. I had their complete trust. A word here, a word there. Since neither knew that I was ‘working’ for the other, they were so easy to manipulate. The only real scare was when Jeremy went off on his own and sank the boat. Then killed the one person besides himself who knew where it was.”
“He also killed two of the three men who helped him.” That black-and-green face pressed up against the shower door flashed, and she shuddered, swallowing the instant sensation of nausea.
“Oh yeah, he was trying to blackmail Paul into paying him more.”
“I’m guessing Paul had no interest in that?”
“No.” He nodded to the computer. “Those are Paul’s account numbers. All told, he has over sixty-two million dollars in liquid cash. I believe I could live very well on that.”
“Gabe got you these numbers, didn’t he?”
“Yes. Mr. Kingman was the beginning. You see, Paul was a very arrogant man. A psychopath, no doubt. He took joy in killing. I also knew he had pictures of some of his crimes on his laptop. Killings he’d done right here in this room. I simply found someone who needed a lot of money and had the skills to hack into Paul’s computer and download the pictures. Reuben Kingman fit that description perfectly. I paid him handsomely to deliver them to Todd Bailey, along with a print of one of the pictures to Paul to let him know someone had breached his security. Unfortunately, one of Paul’s men witnessed the exchange and took photos of the transaction between Todd and Kingman. Needless to say, Paul was enraged.”
“And killed Gabe.”
“You set him up, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. He was greedy and hated his life. He thought the money would buy him some happiness.”
Tears clouded her vision and she blinked them away. She could cry later. “So you knew what each brother was up to and finagled things to work against them and in your favor.”
“That’s a pretty simple summary, but I have to say, it’s very accurate.”
“Todd knew about the account numbers, didn’t he?”
“Of course. He was beyond excited to steal all of that money from his brother. You see, Paul, at my urging, had stolen most everything Todd had ever worked for. So Todd was most happy to go along with my plans. Until he learned about the pictures that could put Paul away for life. Those consumed him to the point that he didn’t even care about the account numbers or the money anymore. Of course, once Paul was in prison, Todd would have taken the money and gloated the rest of his life.”
“Only you neglected to tell him how the plan was really going to play out. With him dead.”
“Yes. I might have left that little detail out.”
“And now, you want me to transfer the money to your accounts, then you kill me and live happily ever after.”
“Again, a simple summary, but yes.”
“Well, if I’m going to die anyway, why should I do it?”
“Because while you’re going to die, you get to choose whether it’s quick and easy . . .” He placed the gun against her temple. “Or slow and painful.” He moved the barrel to her elbow.
She swallowed. Come on, Brady, I know you’re looking for me. Please, God, let him find me in time.
“So, use your remote login and do your thing.” He glanced at a screen over the door and tensed. “Now.”
She flicked a glance at the screen and didn’t see anything. Her mind raced. How was she going to do this? The transfers would take a few minutes, but she needed to get a message to Brady. But with Raimes looking over her shoulder, she wouldn’t be able to do anything.
But she still had the knife.
She logged her way in to the bank software, deliberately messing up her password the first time.
“You better be able to get in.”
“Sorry.” She shot him a baleful look. “My fingers are a little shaky.”
With the next attempt, she was in.
A shadow at the small window to her left caught her attention and she ignored it. However, it gave her hope and sent her prayers into overdrive. “Okay, I need the account number you want to transfer the funds to.”
He put it on the table in front of her. “How long will it take?”
“There are a lot of accounts here and I have to enter everything manually. Probably fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Get to it.”
Emily did, going slower than her normal rate, praying she was buying herself some time. The man next to her finally started pacing.
But he never had his back to her for very long. However, on his next trek to the far wall, she pulled up the bank’s message system and typed in Brady’s number. The fact that she actually remembered it astounded her. On his way back, she shut the box and moved to the next account number.
Raimes stopped to look over her shoulder and her heart thundered a frantic beat—until he moved away to pace again. She immediately pulled the box up and typed, “In the basement, back door, steps lead down, door is open. Raimes is behind it all.”
She shut the box and returned to the accounts.
“How much longer!”
Emily flinched. “Just a few more minutes.”
As she watched the money go into the accounts, she silently prayed. Time was running out. That meant it was time to make a decision.
On Raimes’s next nervous stride to the wall, she let her hand go to the knife at her side. Nerves quivered inside her.
And the door flew open.
“Police! Hands up, hands up!”
A hard hand grabbed her by the hair, halting her mid-flight. Her neck snapped back and pain arced through her. But the hard barrel of the gun against her temple froze her.
And she was so over it.
She twisted her right hand and jabbed back. A harsh cry escaped him and he stumbled back. Emily went to the floor. A loud crack had her ears ringing, and she rolled, covered her head, and three more pops filled the air.
For a split second, everything was silent. Then hands were on her biceps pulling her away from the man writhing on the floor. Blood gushed from the wound in his thigh.
He gasped, fear written across his face, and she locked eyes with him. She was watching a man die right in front of her. Soon, he’d breathe his last and step into eternity. A surge of compassion flooded her, and she pulled away from the hands and dropped to her knees beside him.
“Repent, Jeff,” she whispered. “Don’t die with this on your soul.”
“H-how?” He coughed and blood spilled from his lips.
“Call out to Jesus,” she said. “Tell him you’re sorry and ask him to forgive you . . .” His eyes had glazed over. But another breath rattled into his lungs. “Do you hear me? Did you pray it?”
She thought he gave a short nod before his eyes went blank.
And Emily burst into tears. This time she let the hands lead her away, up the stairs, and out into the sunset.
Brady sank to the ground with his arms around her and simply held her.