BAD DEEDS: A Dylan Hunter Thriller (Dylan Hunter Thrillers) (11 page)

“What did you say?” Dylan called out.

“Dylan, you won’t believe this!” she said, picking up the cat. “Luna is
outside!”

“What?” He set down the wine bottle in his hand on the seat and came trotting over. Then stopped and stared in disbelief. “What the hell?”

“She’s
shivering
, the poor little thing! She must be half frozen!”

Dylan continued to stare. Then looked past her, toward the cabin.

“God knows how long she’s been out here, Dylan,” she said. “Luna, how in the world did you get outside? We’ve got to get you inside and warmed up.”

She turned back toward the stairs.

His big hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“How
did
she get outside?” he said quietly.

She turned to him. His eyes were still staring past her, at the dark front window of the cabin.

“This makes no sense,” he said softly. “The cabin is completely air tight. No openings anywhere. I make sure of that, to keep animals out. And I checked all the windows before we left. As I always do. There’s no way she could have gotten out.”

He paused, and she saw something change in his eyes.

“Not without help,” he added.

The sudden chill in his voice matched the night air. It sent a small tremor through her.

“Move back to the car,” he commanded, smoothly opening his overcoat and jacket with his left hand. In an instant the Sig appeared in his right.

They retreated quickly toward the Camry. He walked backward, left hand on her shoulder, the pistol in his right, his cold eyes never leaving the cabin door. When they reached the car, he guided her around to the driver’s side and opened the door.

“Get in, put Luna on the back seat, and get the car running. Then lower the window so we can continue to talk,” he said, still watching the cabin. She did. “Now reach into the glove compartment and hand me the flashlight … Okay, fetch the Beretta from under the driver’s seat. That one’s for you.”

“Dylan, what are we doing?”

“I have to check out the cabin. I think the odds of anyone still being in there are small. But just in case, you keep the pistol and your cell phone in your lap. Don’t call me; that’s a distraction. I’ll call
you
once I’m inside and have cleared the place. But if things go sideways—”

“Dylan!”

“—you get the hell out of here, fast. You do
not
wait for me, and you do
not
come inside. No matter what. Remember, we’ve discussed these kinds of scenarios before. I have to focus, and the last thing I need is the distraction of worrying about where you are. Which could get us both killed. Got that?
No matter what
.
”

She knew that switch had flipped on inside of him again. His eyes gazed hard and unblinking into the distance. She swallowed. “I understand.”

“Okay. Good. This could take a few minutes.” He sent the briefest smile her way, then continued to watch the dwelling. “Don’t worry, Annie Woods. I’m good at this sort of thing, you know.” He reached inside with his left hand and touched her cheek. Before she could seize his hand, he withdrew it and moved away.

Old training and long-time experience kicked in. Hunter knew that the first thing he had to do was check the exterior perimeter. He was pretty sure that if anyone were armed in the woods, they probably would have been attacked already. Still …

He moved forward in a slight crouch, the left side of his body angled forward. He held the flashlight in his left hand, underneath and parallel to the barrel of the Sig, that forearm supporting and steadying his gun hand. He started around the building counterclockwise, scanning the ground ahead and the trees above and beside him with the beam of the light. He suddenly realized that he was automatically, absurdly looking for trip wires for IEDs.
Old habits die hard, but they let you die old.

He reached the window on the right side of the cabin, ducked beneath it without looking inside, then continued around to the back—

—and found the smashed window pane.

Well, then. You’re
not
crazy.

Rather than stop, he made his way around the rest of the structure, checking out the surrounding trees. Nothing.

He returned to the broken window. What was he up against? Odds were high that it was a burglar—probably some druggie looking for cash or valuables. Though that didn’t square with the fact that the packed Honda sat unmolested. Who else, then? The odds that he could have been tracked down by some old enemy were vanishingly small. He’d covered his tracks far too well.

He gave it up. He would know soon enough. Anyone inside surely was aware of their presence now, so the element of surprise was gone. If he tried to make entry through the front door, he’d be a sitting duck for any armed intruder waiting up in the loft or in the bathroom. Same thing if he tried to go in by the side window, where he’d have to do what was done here: break a pane of glass to unlock it, then be completely exposed while he climbed in.

This window was the least-bad option. It was directly beneath the loft and tucked back in a broad corner alcove, formed by the interior wall of the cabin on one side, and a closet housing the water heater on the other. He’d have some protection from three sides and above as he entered; any assailant would have to confront him directly from the front.

He decided to use the flashlight first to try to draw the fire of anyone inside. Standing to the right side of the window, his body protected behind the thick log wall, he reached out and aimed the beam through the window, flashing it around the interior of the cabin, listening hard for any sounds of movement.

After a full minute, he drew no fire and heard no sound.

Okay. Moment of truth
.

Aiming the flashlight through the broken pane, he took a quick peek at the interior before ducking back. The quick glance revealed only the boxes and bags on the middle of the cabin floor. He did this a couple more times, aiming the beam at different positions around the room. He could only see part of the bathroom.

He risked a longer look. Crouching beneath the window, he raised his head just high enough to see inside while he directed the beam methodically around the room. He could see most of it, and it looked just as he had left it. The circle of light tracked across the floor and walls and ceiling, across the front door, then across the far wall to …

He jerked the bright circle back to the front door. To something silvery just above the door. It was hard to make out at this distance … Then the beam caught a bright vertical streak extending from the shiny object down to …

“Oh Jesus,” he whispered aloud.

…
He stood in the alley in Kandahar, pressed tight against the wall next to the warehouse door, and his hand reached out to the cold metal knob, then slowly turned it and pulled the creaking door open, ever so gingerly, and then there was the flash of a thousand suns …

His hand began to shake, making the circle of light wobble.

Annie … Annie almost walked through that door …

A blinding, murderous rage roiled up in him.

Just as suddenly, as inexplicably, the rage died. The shaking stopped. Everything turned cold again. Icy cold. He felt his return to his home in the cold, high place. Where he looked down at himself, detached. Aware of little things …

The faint aroma of wood smoke.

The rustling of nearby leaves in the frigid breeze.

The rough, brittle bark of the log wall scraping against his knees.

And from his cold, high home, he looked down at himself and knew what he had to do.

Ten endless, agonizing minutes while she stared at the cabin door … stared, barely blinking or daring to breathe, worried sick about what was going on inside, waiting for something to happen, dreading that something would happen, hoping this was all some silly mistake or paranoia … stared, willing him to emerge from that door unharmed and to trot over to her and lean down and flash that crooked smile and say, “Everything’s fine, Annie Woods.”

Luna had come to sit in her lap, seeking and giving a small measure of warmth and comfort. She was purring now, looking up at her, her eyes glittering faintly in the near-dark.

“Oh Luna,” she murmured, stroking the cat. “Oh Luna … Please let there be some simple, stupid explanation for this … I’m just glad you didn’t wander off. You wouldn’t have stood—”

Lights came on inside the cabin.

She caught her breath.

Five seconds later, her cell chirped. She snatched it up from the passenger seat.

Saw that it was him.

“Dylan!”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m fine, I’m fine. Relax. There’s no one here … But there was. I have to be in here for a few more minutes to do … some tidying up.”

“I was so worried! I’ll be right in to help—”

“No!”

She flinched, shocked.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, his voice normal. “I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just that whoever was here left something behind. I have to attend to it before I come outside. No, don’t ask me to explain right now. Just give me a few moments, love. Okay?”

She was bewildered. But she trusted him. “Okay. I’ll wait here.”

“Good. Stay alert, all right? Keep an eye out, in case our visitors return.”

“I will … I love you, Dylan.”

“Love you too.”

Ten minutes later he emerged from the house. He was carrying a paper shopping bag.

Heart racing, she jumped out of the car and ran to him. He held the bag away from her and gathered her in with one arm and hugged her tight.

“Oh, Dylan, I was so scared!”

“Me too,” he said, his voice unnaturally calm.

She looked up at his face. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

He looked at her without expression. “Let’s sit in the car. I’ll explain there.”

Inside, she picked up Luna from the passenger seat and held her. Dylan got in behind the wheel. He held the bag closed in his lap and turned to her. His face looked just as it had at the diner, when he stood to confront the gang. He reached out and took her hand. He stroked the back of it gently with his thumb.

“Annie, I want you to try to remain calm, okay?” he began.

“Okay.”

“Somebody tried to kill us tonight.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid so.” He looked down at the bag. “They left a bomb in the cabin.”

“That’s a
bomb
you’re holding?”

“Don’t worry, it’s harmless. I disarmed it. A simple pipe bomb. No transmitter or fancy detonator—just an electrical switch and battery. I learned about these things during my training at Harvey Point, and when I traveled with EOD guys over in Sand Land. They showed me how to disarm far more complicated IEDs.”

“But
why?
”

“I don’t know why. Not yet.”

“How did they—?”

“As for the how …” He paused. “They rigged this to go off when we opened the door.”

She felt numb. Her brain couldn’t process it. Or the calm manner of his saying it.

“I see that this thing is making you nervous. Here, let me put it on the floor behind us … There. All right. We can only speculate about the ‘why.’ But if I had to bet, I—”

“Dylan … I was about one second from opening that door.”

A pause.

“I know.”

“I’d already opened the lower lock, and—”

“I know,” he repeated, his voice tight.

“—and I was just
one second
from turning the dead bolt when I heard Luna meow behind me.”

“Yes.” It was a whisper. “I know. I know.” He was holding her hand too tightly; the other hand rubbed the cat’s head. “Annie. I know … God, Annie—I almost lost you again!”

She placed the cat gently down on the floor. He fell into her and she pulled him close.

He held her so tightly that she could barely breathe.

She stood at the open door of the cabin, scanning the area outside, Beretta in hand. Behind her, he packed the last of their items.

“So you think it’s probably that gang from the diner, then,” she said. “But how could they find us?”

“They’re the most likely suspects. As for how they found us, who knows?” He straightened from a box on the floor. “Sorry we can’t stay another night, love. But whether it’s those people or somebody else, obviously it’s no longer safe here.” He looked around. “I’m going to miss the place. But until I figure out who’s responsible and take care of it, we’ll have to stay away from here.”

“What do you mean, ‘take care of it’?”

He bent to continue packing.

She approached and stood over him.

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t look up. “I mean I’m going to find out who did this, and take care of it.”

“No! Dylan—you can’t go there again.”

She knew that he understood. He got up and went over to the deer antlers hanging on the wall beside the door. She marched after him, her boots thumping across the bare planks.

“Dylan, you listen to me. You can’t do that.”

He lifted the mounted antlers off their hook on the wall. “I can’t do what?” He turned and placed the antlers gently atop a cardboard box, then headed for their bathroom.

“You can’t run around killing people!”

He wheeled to face her. His eyes were blazing.

“Tell that to the people who nearly blew you to pieces tonight!” he thundered. “Has it sunk in to you yet what almost happened here? Do you get the fact that our lives were spared tonight only by a
cat?
I unscrewed the cap on that pipe bomb, Annie. It was filled with nails. You said it: You were one second away from being torn to bits.”

She stared at him, not knowing what to say.

“And if I had gone in first, it would have been
me
. Decapitated and ripped to pieces, right before your eyes—if the blast didn’t get you, too.”

“I know! I know. I get that. But this is attempted murder. That’s a felony, so we can report it and let—” She stopped.

He nodded. “That’s right. You see why that’s impossible. ‘Brad Flynn’ reporting a bomb planted in ‘his’ cabin? My whole cover here would unravel. And from there, probably the rest of my life as Dylan Hunter. My life with
you.
”