Atonement (34 page)

Cautiously, they made their way along the lane. Their boots began to sink into the spongy ground. Through the dense timber and brush he caught a glint of light.

“I think I see a car,” Nic whispered.

Sure enough, there was a car, parked off the lane and hidden in the foliage. Water sparkled under the shafts of sunlight that broke through the trees. From the front of the car and as far as he could see it was a marsh.

“Explains why he ditched the car here.” Con rewarded Cadno for a job well done.

Nic slipped past, her boots barely making a sound as she walked through the large puddle. “Listen.”

Con strained to hear what she was hearing. It hit him as soon as his ears picked it up. A motor was running. “Generator?” he guessed.

“The hunting cabin probably isn't far.” Nic did a complete three-sixty, scouting the area. “There's no high ground. The trees are thick; we might be able to get close enough without being spotted.”

Before she could get out of his reach, he caught her arm and pulled her back. “Nic, have you considered that he wants you to find him and has something planned?”

She swallowed, giving him a curt nod.

“What's your counterattack?”

“I don't know yet. I have to get a lay of the land before I make a plan of action. We're going in blind here, Con, and it gives me the damn willies.”

His hand trailed down her arm until he took her hand in his. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, feeling the tremble that moved through her hand. With a tug, he pulled her closer, and cupping her face, he looked into her eyes. What he hoped to see was there, mingling with her determination.

Lowering his mouth to hers, he brushed a tender kiss to her lips. “I love you,” he whispered against her mouth.

She closed her eyes, drew in a quick breath through her nose, then gave him a hard kiss before stepping out of his grasp. They stared at each other for a heartbeat, then Nic turned on her heel and, like a ghost, disappeared into the trees.

• • •

Damn it to hell!

Why'd he have to go and say that? Now? When she needed to be focused on the mission and what she had to do.

Elation coursed through her veins. He loved her. Then sadness circumvented the elation. His love might be short-lived. She had no idea how this was going down. If given the choice between her life and Cassy's, Nic would switch with her sister in a heartbeat. It was the only way she knew how to appease The General's longstanding animosity toward his oldest daughter. Nic wasn't a fool—had she been the one to die instead of her mother, he might have remained the happy, loving man she vaguely remembered.

A twig snapped underfoot, and she froze.

Shit. She was too busy daydreaming and not paying attention to her movements. Why didn't she just yell an announcement to Patrick that she was here and scouting for a place to shoot him?

Puffs of smoke peeked through the trees. The smell of burning hickory filled her nostrils. At least he was keeping the place warm for Cassy. The generator was louder now, and Nic was able to get a visual on the cabin.

Interestingly, Patrick had cleaned the neglected place up, clearing the yard of fallen leaves and debris and patching worn parts of the roof. There had to be a self-serving reason for it, but his particular need for cleanliness fed into Nic's profile of him. He needed to control his environment and the people in it.

Nic hunkered down and scanned the area. By all appearances, there seemed to be a lone door; she'd have to check the back to make sure. The smoke drifting from the chimney stayed below the tree line, so he wasn't building a large fire, which prevented anyone from noticing it out on the road. Camouflaged canvases were set up at the far corner of the cabin, probably to disguise the generator. Seemed odd to have them just hanging out like that, but from a distance, they'd dissuade anyone from being suspicious of someone using the cabin.

The scene triggered a memory, and she rocked back on her heels, the gun stock preventing her from falling on her rear. She shook free of the flashback and, using her hand as a tripod, leaned forward. She wouldn't let the PTSD get to her. This was where her training kicked in, putting her in her element as the predator.

Digging out her binoculars, she adjusted the sights to get a better look at the cabin. No movement appeared in the few, small windows. The whole structure couldn't have been more than one big open room. So where was Patrick hiding?

Those windows proved problematic, too. They were small and didn't allow for much space to shoot through. She'd have to draw him outside, knowing full well he'd use Cassy as a shield. Cowards drugged and tricked people into killing themselves, and this one would have no problem using another human to shield himself from harm.

She checked her watch. Sheriff Hamilton should have found her marker by now and would be coming—hopefully quietly—this way. As much as she trusted Hamilton to do a good job at being the sheriff, she wasn't comfortable letting him take charge of this situation. Especially with Agent Asshole in the mix. Nic still burned with resentment against that man for putting her sister in trouble.

Why had Cassy agreed to it? Nic asked her to assist in going through the cases, not get sucked in neck deep.

Leaves rustled behind her, and she jerked, the rifle swinging around into position to fire.

“Hold your horses. It's just me and Cadno,” Con hissed.

Relaxing, she set the gun down on its tripod and shifted onto her knees. “Rustling leaves isn't enough of a warning.”

“Sorry.” He squatted down next to her. “You never did tell me what to do when approaching you like that.”

Guess she never had. This was odd for her, since in the past her spotter had always been right with her, scoping and relaying intel as they prepared for the kill.

“Nic, I didn't mean to scare you off with—”

Her hand went up and closed into a fist, cutting him off. The door was opening. When there was a sizable crack it opened no further. The overhang from the roof and the darkened interior prevented her from seeing who was standing there. Had she been set up for a shot, she wouldn't have a clear line of fire. It was like Patrick had purposely chosen this place with her in mind.

“There's no need for subterfuge. I know you're out there.”

Stunned by how well his voice carried, Nic sat on her legs. That was the voice she heard the other night when he hit her with the branch. His voice was deeper, with more of a New England accent than she'd picked up during all those conversations at the Killdeer Pub. The difference between what she heard now and then could fool anyone.

Shock wearing off, she lifted the binoculars and zeroed in on the open door. “If you know that, then you're aware of what I have with me.” Nic liked how her voice bounced among the trees, keeping her actual position secret for now. “This could end peacefully.”

“Sadly, Nicolette, the only peaceful solution isn't the one of your choosing. Tell O'Hanlon to leave, insist that his presence be gone, and we'll continue this conversation.” The door gradually closed.

“He's out of his bloody mind if he thinks I'm going anywhere,” Con said.

She gripped Con's arm. “Hang on a sec,” she said, keeping her voice low. “This might work to our advantage.”

He looked at her cockeyed. “Have you gone daft? Separating and leaving you alone isn't a good idea.”

“You're not leaving me alone. Besides, someone needs to check to see if Hamilton is here yet.” She dug out a few bullets, picked up her rifle, and handed it all to Con. “Take this and pretend to be taking it away; he's probably watching. I want him to think I'm at a disadvantage without my rifle. Once I have his full attention and he's not concerned with you being out here, come back, set up my gun within ten to twenty yards from the door. I need to know where the rifle is, and this is as good a place as any.”

“And what do you want me to do after that?”

“Lock him in. If you have to the be the one to use the rifle, then so be it. Cassy and I get out of this situation alive.”

“You're forgetting someone.”

She frowned. “If The General is in there, he's on his own.” She shooed Con away and climbed to her feet, staying next to a tree.

Con called Cadno to his side and stood, cradling the rifle in his arms like it was a child. It warmed her seeing him treat that object with care. Before he took a step to leave, she grabbed his collar and pulled him close.

“You didn't scare me off.” She shrugged a shoulder. “The timing was way off, but you didn't scare me.” She caressed his cheek, staring at his mouth. The words were there, they just wouldn't come out. She didn't know how to say them; they were as foreign to her as his Irish language.

The one man who hadn't gotten away from her. Nor had he left her. He'd stayed even when it got ugly. He deserved to know, because she had no idea how this situation was going to play out.

Dragging him closer, she looked him in the eye. “No matter what happens, know I … I love you.” She gave him a fierce kiss, then pushed him away. “Go.” She turned for the cabin and didn't look back.

Moving tree to tree, she crept closer, keeping low to the ground and using as much of the shadows to her advantage as she could and as much as her injuries would allow. The concussion and her battered body were slowing her down. Her tactical clothing had been meant for night, and she wished she'd put on the camo ones instead. Easing behind a fat trunk, she squatted with her back to the rough bark and peered around the tree.

Mere yards separated her from the cabin's front door. She lifted the wide band strapping her sidearm in its holster and settled her hand on the butt. Before she went into sniper school, she was subjected to the rigors of being a combat marine. So many waited for her to fail, wash out, and become the laughingstock of the Corps. To this day, she couldn't begin to explain how she managed to survive those months of hell and not break.

Nic wasn't about to let some psycho-freak be the one to defeat her.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she singsonged.

A loud creaking echoed through the timber. Nic counted her breaths to five before she peeked around the tree.

Cassy stood a few feet shy of the roof overhang, her head tilted to the side and a drunken slump to her body. Her hair hung in oily strands around her face, and her clothing looked rumpled and streaked with dirt. From her vantage point, Nic couldn't tell if anything worse had happened to her sister, but her condition set Nic's blood to boiling.

A shadow lingered in the doorway behind Cassy. As expected, Patrick was using her sister as protection.

“What did you do to her, Patrick?”

He tsked. “Patrick is such a childish name, don't you think? It seemed befitting my role here in Eider, but I prefer The Priest.”

“Patrick, Priest, whatever, you might as well give yourself up. It'll make it easier on you.”

“That's not how this works, Nicolette. There are steps you are expected to take to accomplish your atonement.”

Nic had to smile at his arrogance. “Just how do you think you're going to make me do it when you can't control me like you did the others?”

“Your resistance to the drugs is unfortunate and unexpected. But Cassandra isn't so lucky.”

She had to get his mind off of Cassy and on her. Shift the focus and maybe she could get him out from behind her sister.

“What makes you think I need to atone for anything?”

The Priest chuckled, such an odd, old sound from someone who was ten plus years her junior. “Sinners abound. Some are unrepentant, like you. The commandments you've broken justify your death; it's the only way to cleanse your soul and prepare you for your salvation.”

“Who says I'm ready to die? I've lived through countless tours with some pretty hairy situations that should have killed me, yet here I am. So what gives you the right to put an expiration date on my life?”

“I've been given the authority.”

“By who?”

“God.”

Ah, hell, he truly was the picture of a mental basket case. How had he managed to hide this deranged thinking from them for as long as he had? Not once in her talks with him had he ever spouted any of this mumbo jumbo.

“I think you've been sniffing too much holy water, Priest.”

“Mock me all you wish, Nicolette, but your atonement will come, and it will come today.”

Cassy made a startled gasp, which brought Nic to her feet, weapon in hand, and around the tree. She froze. The camouflaged canvas had been dropped to reveal what it had been hiding.

Wrists lashed together by rope and suspended by his arms from a thick tree branch hung The General. His naked torso glistened under the sunlight, and his feet skimmed the ground. Thin streaks of blood ran the length of his arms. The gag in his mouth showed dots of blood against the white. Pain etched into his features, making Nic's stomach cramp.

She tried not to envision Aiden hanging there by his neck. She had to keep focused on the present. Her father wasn't Aiden; he was hanging by his arms and not his neck. He was still alive.

“Quite the family reunion we have here.”

Nic tore her attention from her father, leveling her gun at her unseen foe. “You sick, twisted bastard.”

“I found it prudent to bring all parties involved in this cleansing.”

A hand appeared on Cassy's shoulder, making her jerk. Her sister couldn't drag her drugged gaze off of their degraded father.

Nic refused to look at him again. Some horrible part of herself wanted to be vindicated in his humiliation. Seeing the great and mighty general taken down by some lowly criminal. But she wouldn't celebrate it; she refused to cater to The Priest and his game.

“What? No questions? No demands?”

Swallowing, Nic inched her way right, hoping to get a clearer shot of him.