Deathwatch (22 page)

Down she slid, hoping she could get out of the house, reach the waiting Mustang Murph had left for her.
She couldn't bear thinking that something bad had happened to him.
She thumped to the ground inside the laundry room, tore the door open, but Mordocai was already there, waiting for her with a terrifying, cold smile on his almost-Fred face.
She swung the crowbar, but he knocked her hand aside then pinned her against the wall.

He grabbed her neck, then he squeezed and squeezed until her world went black.

* * *

Murph searched through his new neighbor’s house in his socks.
He’d left his boots in the garage, didn’t want to give himself away by dragging mud inside.

He checked the large laundry room, the metal cabinet that stood as tall as he was, bolted to the wall.
His gaze dropped to the heavy-duty lock.
Gun cabinet?
This could be where she kept the rifle he might or might not have seen from outside.
He had no way of opening the door, so he walked into the kitchen.
No guns in sight there, but she had plenty of large knives.

The furniture was sparse, low end, the kind a person wouldn’t mind leaving behind if they had to light out in a hurry.
Everything was miss-matched as if she’d furnished the house from the flea market that operated at the old county airport every Sunday.
A picture on the wall caught his eye, Wendy and two men, one who looked a few years older—boyfriend?—and a younger guy, in his early twenties, who could have been their son.

She seemed to be living here alone.
Murph hadn’t seen anyone but her around the house since he’d come home.
Kate hadn’t mentioned anyone else either.
So where was Wendy’s family?
Or maybe the picture was a fake, a decoy.
Maybe she was a stone cold assassin, and the photo and the frilly curtains were just her cover.

He hurried to the bedroom, found a portable safe in the bottom of the closet.
He tried the lock but opening it went beyond the powers of his pocket knife.

What was she hiding in there?
Information on Kate?
More weapons?
He pushed the safe aside but found nothing save a plastic storage container filled with local maps.

As he straightened, he could hear the engine of a car outside.
Maybe Wendy decided to bring her lunch home today.
Harper must have missed her.
Murph swore under his breath.

He ran back to the laundry room, turned the lock and pulled the door closed behind him, jumped into his boots and cut through the garage, locked the door behind him there, too, then waited, pressed against the siding.

He didn’t want her catching him cutting across the strip of bushes between their yards.
But she wasn’t walking to the front door.
The garage door rolled up, creaking.
She was pulling the car in.

He inched up to look in through the window, squinted.

Wrong car.

A black BMW M5—a car way out of place in his neighborhood.
He waited until the driver got out.
As the man turned, Murph caught him in profile—young, preoccupied with his phone, he matched the younger man’s photo on Wendy’s family picture inside.

Murph ducked before he could be spotted, then ran toward his backyard, keeping down below window level, darted through the bushes and kept in the cover of Wendy’s shed until he reached the back of his own garage.

He went around, down the driveway and picked up his shovel, starting to work again, watching the neighbor’s windows from the corner of his eye.
He wanted to see if he could catch another glimpse of the guy, if he could figure out a way
the man
might be part of a planned hit.

If Wendy was Asael’s lover, the young guy could be Asael’s son.
Was the older guy on their family photo Asael?

Maybe murder was the family business.
Maybe Wendy was ready to make her move on Kate and called in her son to help.
Okay, the theory was a stretch.
Assassins tended to be solitary.
They didn’t normally hunt in a family unit.
Yet Interpol intelligence said Asael
had
pulled an odd job or two with his lover.
 

Murph swore under his breath, wishing he’d snapped a photo of that family picture with his cell phone so he could show it to Kate.
Maybe he’d get another chance to get in there.
Maybe the son was only here to drop something off and would leave in a few minutes.

Murph kept shoveling snow.
The physical exertion helped him think.
The cold kept his head clear.
And it was easier not to be around Kate.
She’d be safe in the Witness Protection Program.
He wanted a good life for her.
But he had trouble processing the idea that he’d never see her again.

On the other hand, if Wendy was Asael's lover, if she could be taken out then Asael could be tracked through her,
and
Kate would be free.
He was definitely going to investigate that angle once she left.
He
was going back to the neighbor's house, this time with tools to open that gun cabinet and the safe.
The FBI should be here for her soon—

Oh, hell.
He threw the shovel down and strode toward the house.
If they only had an hour or two left together, was he really going to waste it sulking out in the driveway?
 

As he reached the end of the brick walkway, a sharp series of beeps went off inside the house.
Smoke detector
.
He dashed forward.
Banged on the door, even as he was reaching for his keys.
“Kate!”
 

He unlocked the door, burst in, reached for the keypad to disable the security alarm and found it already disabled.

Smoke poured out of the oven.
He pulled his gun as he hurried to turn it off.
“Kate?”

No response came.

He ran to the bedroom.
“Are you in there?”
He shoved the door open.

The room stood empty, her abandoned suitcase on the middle of the bed.
Her Kevlar vest was hanging in the closet.

* * *

Mordocai smiled as he drove in the gray winter afternoon.
He’d have some playtime with Kate, then before he got on the plane to Montreal, he would mail her head in a cooler box to Hong Kong, to Asael.

The package would please Asael, but also establish Mordocai as a professional on the same level.
He didn’t like the current inequality in their relationship.
Every once in a while, love required a larger than life gesture, something big, something memorable.

So the gift would be a theatrical gesture.
So sue him.
He’d grown up in the theater.
Not on the stage.
They'd said he wasn’t handsome or talented enough for that.
He’d done makeup, created sets, dealt with everything that was mechanical, taught himself every aspect of the art, every backstage job.
He would have done anything to stay near those red velvet curtains.

He’d met Asael in the theatre.
A young Adonis, with all that firm, sinuous flesh.
Asael had been born to the stage—brilliant, full of defiance and anger and darkness.
Violence shimmered oh, so tantalizingly close to the surface—another layer of excitement.
His presence filled the stage, seduced the audience.
Mordocai became his admirer first, then they became lovers.

When a pissant administrator tried to cause trouble for Asael, they took care of the idiot
together
.
Went to his house, had a chat with him.
His body had never been recovered.

Then Asael disappeared from New York, and Mordocai had grieved for him for years.
Until the prodigy popped up again, needing a complete transformation for a job.
He had left the theatre by then, found another line of work that satisfied his dark appetites more fully than fake blades and fake blood on the stage.

At first, Mordocai used his make-up talent to help then, eventually, Asael let him assist with bigger tasks.
And now Mordocai would be the one to finish the witness bitch.
He was out of the shadows at last.
He was the main character, in the spotlight in the middle of the stage where he belonged.

He wanted his police sketch next to Asael’s on the FBI’s Most Wanted list.
They were a couple.
They should be together there.
Asael shouldn't get all the glory just because he was a few years younger and had more kills.

Asael needed to understand that they were equals.
In all the world, nobody measured up to him but Mordocai.
Asael needed to understand that they belonged to each other, that his young fluff pieces on the side would no longer be tolerated.

Mordocai gripped the wheel.
He would
not
be replaced in Asael’s bed.
 

They were perfect for each other, alike in so many ways, although Asael preferred a quick job, while Mordocai liked to play if given the opportunity.
He liked the rush of power.

He stepped on the gas and drove around a tractor trailer, careful not to swerve too sharply, mindful of Kate Bridges in the trunk.
He wanted to
inflict and enjoy
, in person, any banging up that happened to her.

Chapter Eleven

Murph tore through the house, desperately searching for some clue that would tell him who’d taken Kate and where they’d gone.

He scanned a couple of muddy footprints on the floor, a smattering of blood on the bottom stair.
Not enough for the injury to have been fatal.
He had every reason to believe that Kate had been alive when she’d been taken.

Alive but unarmed.
He found her gun half under the couch in the living room.

Footprints in the snow out back led across the neighbor’s yard and to the street.
He ran as he followed them.
Looked like, at one point, another car had parked behind the Mustang.
Murph stared at the tracks for a second, the snow too slushy to take a good picture of the tire marks for comparison with the tire tread database.

Frustration punched through him.

Had Wendy doubled back, come to his house while he’d been inside hers?

He dialed Harper.
“You got Wendy White?”

“
Yeah.
Her car insurance expired.
I can hold her until she fills out the paperwork and pays her fines, but not much longer.”
 

If Wendy didn’t take Kate, who did?
“
Patch me through to the Captain.”
 

“
Kate’s been kidnapped,” he rushed to say as soon as Bing picked up.
 

“
What?
When?”
 

“
In the last hour.
She was hiding in Broslin.
She’s the only person who’s ever seen Rauch Asael and lived to tell the tale.
Either he or someone connected to him came after her.”
 

“
You couldn’t tell me this before?”
Bing snapped on the other end, but knew better than to waste time on being angry.
“I’m putting out a statewide APB.
You got a picture of her?”
 

“
No.”
 

“
All right.
I can give a fair description.
You have any idea what kind of car we are looking for?”
 

“
I wish
.”
Guilt ate at him.
He shouldn't have left her alone, not for a second, dammit.
 

“
I’m sending everyone out on the roads.
I’ll call you back as soon as we have something.”
 

“
Thanks.”
Murph hurried to collect his weapons, scattered at strategic locations throughout the house.
Looked like Kate had never reached them.
 

He shrugged into his harness and shoved one handgun into that, another behind his back into his waistband.
He swung his two rifles around his shoulder and grabbed the bag that held his extra bullets.

He was heading out when the doorbell rang.
He tore the door open, only to find himself facing down three gun barrels.
The government-issue weapons were held by two men in black suits, a similarly dressed woman behind them—all trim, crisp and clean-cut, as if they’d just come off an assembly line.

“
Drop your weapons!”
the one in front yelled.
 

Oh, hell.
Murph put his hands in the air.
“Agent Cirelli and crew, I assume?
I’m Murph Dolan.
Kate has just been taken.”
 

The woman stepped forward and disarmed him with a few efficient moves.
“I want to see I.D.
Keep your hands up.”

“
Back right pocket.”
 

She reached for his wallet, flipped it open, checked.
“Where’s Miss Bridges?”

“
I don’t know.
I was out shoveling snow.
The kidnapper came in through the back door of the garage.
Disabled security.”
 

“
I talked to her earlier today.”
Cirelli watched him through narrowed eyes while the other two spread through the house, all three keeping their weapons out.
“She was concerned about you.
She said she wanted to leave, and you didn’t want her to go.”
 

“
I wanted her safe,” Murph snapped out the words as the other two came back from the bedroom.
 

One of them said, “Clear,” even as the three agents exchanged meaningful looks.

“
I have no time for this.
I need to find her.”
Murph moved to push past her, but Cirelli put her gun up right against his chest.
 

Then the other two were behind Murph, and the next second he was in handcuffs, cold metal circling his wrists.

He gritted his teeth.
Okay, so Cirelli was going to be a hardass about this.
She’d already lost Kate once.
She was probably determined not to fail again.

Murph looked her in the eye as frustration hummed through him.
“I’m not the enemy here.”

“
Why don’t I decide that?
I need you to come with me, Mr.
Dolan.”
Cirelli’s face was set in a cold mask as she holstered her weapon at last.
“How about the two of us go down to the local police station where we can talk a little while the agents look through the house and figure out what happened here?”
 

Headbutt Cirelli, shove the younger agent into the kitchen island with his good shoulder, then make a break for the door before the other one could react.
With everything that he was, Murph wanted to fight.
His muscles bunched.
He ground his teeth as he shook his head.
 

“
You’re making a mistake.”
They were wasting precious time.
But cooperation would get him out of this insanity the quickest.
Bing, Harper and Chase were out looking for Kate, but Leila would be at the station.
She would vouch for him.
“Fine.
Okay.
Let’s go.
Every minute you’re wasting on me, Asael is getting farther away with her.”
He strode to the door.
 

Cirelli opened it for him.
“Rauch Asael is in Hong Kong.
We’re cooperating with the local authorities there on his apprehension.
They found his lair this morning.
Signs point to him being there just hours before.”

“
Then his girlfriend.
I thought it was the neighbor….”
He was never going to forgive himself for that mistake.
 

Cirelli drew up an eyebrow as she opened the black SUV’s back door.
“Asael is into men.
He has a long-term lover called Mordocai.
A little older.”

Murph’s head spun as he slid onto the back seat.
The word
older
reverberated in his brain.
Fred?
But Fred had checked out.
Fred had been at the mechanic shop when the dark sedan had followed Kate.
 

Cirelli shoved behind the wheel then punched things into the GPS.
She called the station, identifying herself as an FBI agent.
She asked for assistance, an interview room and a holding cell.

Murph could only shake his head in disgust in the back as she shot down the road.
“If you want to catch Mordocai, you need to run a no holds barred FBI check on Fred Kazincky.”
She had access to data beyond the basic law enforcement databases.

The agent flashed him a skeptical look in the rearview mirror.

“
What do you have to lose?
I obviously don’t have Kate.
What if Kazincky does?
He could be Mordocai.”
 

Cirelli hesitated for a moment, but then pulled her cell phone back out and called the name in to her own office, while Murph tried to think back to every single thing he knew about Fred.

“
Around sixty,” he told the agent.
“New to town.
Works as a mechanic at Arnie's Gas Station.
Kate takes her car to him.”
 

Bing waited for them in front of the station, glaring when the agent pulled Murph from the back of the SUV.
Leila must have called him back in.

“
That’s my officer.”
He strode toward them.
“I guarantee you’re making a mistake here.”
 

“
Your opinion will be taken into consideration, Captain.
We need to hold Mr.
Dolan for questioning.
Agent Cirelli, FBI,” she introduced herself as she escorted Murph in.
 

Murph figured on ten minutes of interrogation, then they could all finally focus on finding Kate.
He could probably be patient for ten minutes before murdering any FBI agents.

The station stood empty, save for Bing and Leila, everyone else out looking.
Murph was grateful to Bing for that.

And the Captain insisted on being there for the questioning, too, not that it did Murph any good.
Even between the two of them, they couldn’t convince Cirelli to let him go.
She was determined to do this one by the book.
After fifteen minutes of badgering, she requested a holding cell.

“
I need to keep Mr.
Dolan secure until we search his house to figure out what happened to Miss Bridges.”
 

“
Fred Kazincky took her!”
Murph raised his voice for the first time, frustration pumping through him.
 

Bing protested, too, but he could do little else.
The FBI outranked him.
He led them to the largest cell.

Murph was inside and locked up by the time he realized he should have fought them right at the beginning, right before they’d slapped the cuffs on him.
Which were left on, even if it was against regulation.
Cirelli wouldn’t listen to Bing about that, either.
She told Murph she’d be back shortly, then asked the Captain to walk her out so she could ask him a few more questions.

Jerry, one of the town drunks was the only other guest of the Broslin P.D.
this evening, in the smaller cell next to Murph's.

“Murph.”

“How are you, Jerry?”

The fifty-something plumber sat up on the bench, stretched his legs.
“Stiff in the mornings, and not in a good way,” he said mournfully.

Murph didn't have the heart to tell him that it was almost night time.

He paced the cell, his thoughts turning darker and darker.
The agents would search through his house within half an hour at most.
They would see the blood and that all the doors were reinforced.
They would wonder if he’d kept Kate locked in.

They would circle back to the suspicion that he’d killed her.
Then they’d start looking for the body.
They wouldn’t find it.
Maybe they’d bring in equipment to dig around out back.

Hours could pass before they came back to interrogate him.

If Kate w
as
still alive, she didn’t have that much time.

Mordocai hadn’t killed her on sight.
He’d taken her, which meant he wanted more than a quick kill.
Murph couldn’t bear thinking about what that might be.
He had to get the hell out of here.
Mordocai wouldn’t play with her forever.

Murph kicked the bars so hard the whole damned cage rattled.
He was ready to tear the cell apart with his bare hands by the time Bing hurried back, his face dark, his jaw set tight.