Closer Than You Think (52 page)

What he wanted was to sleep in his nice soft bed. He wanted to go home.
To Faith. Preferably also in my nice soft bed
. She was like an addiction, stuck in his system. All he wanted to do was take her somewhere quiet and make love to her again, slowly this time. But he didn’t have that luxury. Not if he wanted to keep her alive.

Cincinnati, Ohio, Tuesday 4 November, 10.40
P.M.

What is taking them so long?
But Faith kept the question to herself. No one had given them an all-clear, so she and Greg could do no more than sit on the floor and wait in tense silence.

Greg’s phone buzzed, making them both jump. ‘It’s for you, from Deacon,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘Why don’t you have your own phone? Everybody has a phone.’

‘Mine got busted,’ she said, reading the message. Deacon had finally texted her the contact information for the sender of the FedEx package. Hopefully this meant that he was finished interviewing Uncle Jeremy. She was afraid to even wonder at the outcome.

Greg eyed her suspiciously. ‘Taken-by-the-cops busted or broken busted?’

‘Both,’ Faith said dryly as she dialed the number Novak had sent.

‘Hello?’ a woman answered cautiously, her twang very pronounced.

‘I’d like to speak with Daphne Montgomery, please.’

‘This is Daphne.’ Her voice hardened. ‘Who is this? How did you get this number?’

‘My name is Faith Corcoran. I’m a friend of Deacon Novak. I’m sorry to call so late, but it’s important.’

‘Where is Deacon?’ Daphne demanded. ‘Is he all right?’

‘He’s fine.’ Faith used her most reassuring tone. ‘He asked me to call.’

‘Why did he— Wait. Faith Corcoran? You were with him last night when he got shot.’

Faith hesitated, uncomfortable discussing the situation with a stranger. Except that this woman was clearly important to Novak. ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I was there.’

‘I’d say you were a sight more than
there
, sugar. From what I hear, you were the target.’

Faith frowned. None of the news feeds had named her as the intended target. At least they hadn’t when she’d last looked, but that had been before she and Greg had started painting. ‘What did you hear and where did you hear it?’

A slight pause. ‘Do you know who I am, Faith?’

‘I know that you’re Deacon’s friend. Why?’ A sliver of doubt injected itself into her mind. ‘Are you more than that?’ Faith winced, hearing the jealousy in her own voice.

A husky laugh. ‘I’m only his friend, sugar. But my husband is his old boss.’

‘Ah. He’d be the JC in the picture you signed for him.’

‘Special Agent Joseph Carter,’ Daphne confirmed. ‘I nearly had heart failure when I heard Deacon had been shot, but Joseph said he wasn’t hurt. That better be true or he’s in trouble.’

Faith wondered who would be in trouble – Joseph or Deacon. ‘He was wearing Kevlar, so thankfully all he has is a bad bruise. He pushed me out of the way.’

‘I’d have expected nothing else from our Deacon. Why are you calling me, Faith?’

Oh, right.
‘To verify that you sent him a package.’

‘I did. Why?’

‘That’s good. Now we can let the FedEx man go.’

Greg was watching, eyes narrowed. ‘Told you he really was the FedEx man.’

‘Who was that?’ Daphne asked. ‘What FedEx man? You’re not making sense.’

‘That was Deacon’s brother, Greg. He opened the door to the FedEx man who had the misfortune of arriving with your package at a very bad time. The delivery looked suspicious.’

‘You’re in Deacon’s
house
? And he’s not there? What kind of friend are you exactly?’

Faith blushed, suddenly glad Daphne couldn’t see her face as everything she and Novak had done in his bedroom came rushing back. ‘The kind of friend he gives your number to, I suppose,’ she hedged.

A short pause, then a delighted chuckle. ‘How long have you known our Deacon?’

Faith checked the time on Greg’s phone. ‘About twenty-nine hours.’

‘That long, huh?’ Daphne sounded amused.

‘It’s been a very full twenty-nine hours,’ she said quietly.

‘So I’ve heard,’ Daphne said, her amusement gone. ‘Are
you
all right, Faith?’

Sudden tears pricked at Faith’s eyelids. ‘Sure,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I will be.’
As soon as Deacon comes home.
She cleared her throat. ‘Is the box you sent him perishable? Because it’s likely to be taken as evidence.’

‘No, don’t let them take it as evidence,’ Daphne protested. ‘Why?’

‘Because one of the two agents guarding me was stabbed less than fifteen minutes before the FedEx guy rang the doorbell.’

‘Hell,’ Daphne muttered. ‘Things really are messed up out there. Is the agent all right?’

The voices outside were becoming increasingly loud, but Faith didn’t want to scare Greg, so she kept a smile on her face. ‘I don’t know. I hope so. What’s in the box? I’ll try to save it.’

‘It’s a coat. I’d bought a leather coat and sunglasses like Deacon’s for Joseph – as kind of a birthday gag. But then I heard Deacon had been shot in the shoulder, and I figured his coat was ruined. So I sent him the one that I had. I know how much he loves that old thing.’

Faith’s heart melted. ‘That was very kind of you. He said his coat could be fixed, but it got taken as evidence and I think he’s missing it more than he lets on. I’ll try to grab the new one before Forensics takes it away. Thank you, Daphne. I know this will mean a lot to him.’

‘Ah. So you’re
that
kind of friend. Good. I’m very, very glad. Tell Deacon we miss him.’

‘I will.’ Faith hung up, gave Greg his phone. ‘Deacon left some good friends in Baltimore.’

A shadow passed over Greg’s face. ‘I know. He left them to come back here. For me.’

‘Because he loves you,’ Faith said softly. ‘He told me to tell you so.’

A look of pleased shock passed over his face, then he let loose a characteristically teenage roll of the eyes. ‘Yeah, right.’

‘Wish me luck,’ Faith said. ‘I’m going to try to rescue that package.’

‘Good lu—’ Greg broke off with a frown, the shouting outside becoming so loud, even he could hear it. ‘What’s happening?’ he whispered.

Damn good question
. ‘I’ll find out. Sit here inside the closet.’ Where no bullets could come bursting through the window glass. ‘Promise me,’ she whispered fiercely.

Her urgency must have made an impact, because he did as she asked. Drawing a breath, Faith went into Deacon’s room and, kneeling on the bed safely to one side of the window, pulled back the shade.

And was instantly sorry she had, because she saw Agent Pope die.

Pope was lying on a stretcher, his face as white as the pillow that cradled his head. But his face and the pillow were the only things that were white. Everything else was blood red.

The loud voice belonged to Agent Colby, who stood at his partner’s side screaming at him to hold on. For Fran and the kids. And then everything went silent.

Colby stopped yelling as giant silent sobs began to shake his broad shoulders. Because Pope wasn’t breathing anymore.

The EMTs looked grim. And so damn sorry.

And then Faith realized she was crying too, a low, keening wail that she couldn’t keep in. She let go of the shade and slid down until she sat against the headboard. Burying her face in Deacon’s pillow to muffle her tears, she rocked herself as she cried.

Dammit, dammit, dammit
. It didn’t matter if the stabbing hadn’t been about her.
Pope wouldn’t have been out there in the first place were it not for a psychopath trying to kill me
.

But managing only to pick off everyone around her.

The sound of footsteps had her simultaneously lifting her head and reaching into her purse for her gun. She blinked hard to see who was coming. An angry groan rose in her chest when she did. ‘Oh, wonderful. It’s you.’

Adam Kimble crossed Deacon’s bedroom in a few long strides, his dark eyes intense. ‘What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’

‘Does it really matter to you if I am? If you’re here to babysit me, fine. Just leave me alone. Greg could use your company.’ She put her gun back in her purse, brought her knees to her chest and buried her face in the pillow again.

‘Why are you crying, Dr Corcoran?’ he asked carefully.

Faith jerked her head up, glaring at him. ‘Because he’s dead,’ she shouted. ‘Pope is dead. He was guarding me and someone stabbed him and now
he is dead
.’ She swallowed hard, her tantrum leaving her spent. ‘Go ahead,’ she whispered. ‘Tell me it’s my fault. You know you want to. Might as well get it out of your system.’

He stood there looking at her while she counted the throbs in her now-pounding head. Finally he sighed. Shoulders sagging, he propped his fists on his hips and dropped his chin, staring down at the floor. ‘I don’t think it’s your fault, Faith.’

‘It’s mine.’ Greg edged into the room, his steps uncertain. His face as white as chalk. ‘Adam? Is it true? He’s dead? Really dead?’

Adam gave a single, sober nod. ‘Yeah. It’s true.’

Greg sank to the floor, the green paint on his clothes streaking the wall, his stare glassy-eyed. ‘What kind of knife was it, Adam?’ he asked numbly.

‘Looked like a bowie. Why?’

‘What color was the handle?’

‘Redwood. Why?’ Adam repeated, but Greg had covered his face with trembling hands. Adam crouched in front of him and pulled his hands from his face. ‘Greg?’

‘He thinks the boys at school who threatened Dani are responsible,’ Faith said, her heart breaking. She still didn’t know what Greg had done, but she realized the repercussions of it could very possibly have left a man dead.

‘This was what got you suspended?’ Kimble demanded, letting out a harsh breath when Greg only nodded. Kimble looked up at Faith. ‘Do they know this outside?’

‘I told Deacon. He said he’d tell them, but he was in an interview when I called.’ She rubbed her aching forehead. ‘This day completely and utterly sucks.’

‘I can agree with that,’ Kimble said, abruptly rising to put his hand out to stop her when she started to leave the room. ‘Whoa. Where are you going?’

‘There’s a FedEx box on the living room floor that belongs to Deacon.’ She could do nothing to help Pope or his family, but she’d be damned if she let the Feds take Deacon’s coat. ‘I was going to grab what’s inside before the Feds take custody of it.’

Kimble stared at her. ‘You’re going to tamper with evidence?’

She bared her teeth. ‘It’s not evidence. It’s a gift from one of Deacon’s Baltimore friends that had the bad luck to be delivered now. Dial the last number in Greg’s call log and talk to her yourself. She sent him a replacement coat, for God’s sake.’

Adam’s expression was grim. ‘Stay here. I’ll talk to whoever’s in command out there and see what I can do about the coat.’ He laid a hand on Greg’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘I need details. Names, addresses. How you knew about the knife. What happened to make them willing to kill.’ He looked over at Faith again. ‘I’m taking the two of you away from here, so pack what you need for a few days.’

Faith’s mouth fell open. ‘What?’

‘This safe house isn’t safe anymore. You need to move. And hurry up, if you would. I have to take you to the hospital first. Arianna’s awake and asking to talk to you.’

Feeling as numb as Greg looked, Faith watched Kimble disappear down the stairs.
Move. And quickly. For Arianna. And, please God, for Corinne and the little girl, too
.

‘Greg, you need to change your clothes.’ She hardened her voice. ‘Come on. Move it.’

He didn’t move. Just stayed there, forearms resting on bent knees. Staring straight ahead.

Muttering curses at the universe in general, Faith opened and shut the drawers in Deacon’s dresser until she found his stash of sweats and dumped the entire contents of the drawer on the bed. ‘Here’s a set. Go into the bathroom and change. Leave the paint-covered clothes in the tub. We’ll deal with them later.’ When Greg didn’t move, she went over and grabbed his hand, trying to yank him to his feet. ‘Greg, you have to move. We have things to do. Go, change.’ He slowly came to his feet, took the clothes she offered, and trudged into the master bathroom, his head down.

The slamming of the front door caught her by surprise. It sounded like it had been thrown open. Seconds later, Agent Colby barreled up the stairs and into Deacon’s bedroom.

‘Where is he?’ Colby asked quietly.

‘Who?’ Faith asked, genuinely confused.

Colby leaned down until he was completely in her space, and she felt the old panic return. ‘Greg. The kid. Deacon Novak’s brother.’ He spat the words into her face.

What the fuck?
She moved to block Colby’s path. ‘Why?’

He put both beefy hands on her shoulders and shoved her aside. Faith backed up and blocked his path again, palms out like a traffic cop. ‘Agent Colby.
Stop
.’

He moved around her, advancing toward the bathroom. Faith ran to the bathroom door, putting her body in front of it. ‘What are you doing, Agent Colby?’

‘He played games at school,’ Colby said, his fury audible now. ‘Hacked into teachers’ emails and made them think some kid had AIDS. Did you know that?’ He didn’t stop for her reply, just dragged her away from the door.

She shoved him hard enough to send him back a step. ‘What is wrong with you?’ she cried. ‘Greg, lock the door. Do not come out.’ But the lock didn’t turn and Faith’s stomach twisted.
Fine time to take out your hearing aids, kid
. ‘Kimble!’ she shouted. ‘Help me!’

‘He’ll come out,’ Colby gritted, his breath hot on her face, ‘and he will see what he has done. Kids play on the computer and think they’re God.’ He reached around her and rattled the doorknob. ‘Come out, you little prick. Come outside and see what you’ve done.’

‘I’m coming, Faith,’ Greg said impatiently through the door. ‘For God’s sake.’