Distortion (Moonlighters Series) (31 page)

He went to the next window and did the same thing. This time he saw a man in the kitchen. He’d seen him before—one of the Harper brothers. He was carrying a Glock .38.

Michael checked his watch. Ten minutes had passed since he’d called Blue. Would the FBI be here soon, or would it take them as long as it took the police department to assemble a SWAT team? Surely the feds had men at the ready.

He went around to the other windows but saw no one in the other rooms. The boys didn’t appear to be here.

Ducked down and darting from tree to tree, Michael ran back into the woods, far enough away from the house that
they couldn’t hear him. He called Cathy—listening through his earpiece—and she answered on the first ring.

“Michael, where are you?”

“I found Juliet,” he said in a low voice. “She’s in a house off Highway 64. I’ve got Miller tied up in the car.”

“Is she all right? Have you seen her?”

“Yes. She’s in the house. She’s with Amber and one of the Harper brothers. Steven, I think. They’re doing something on the computer, probably bank transactions.”

“Are the children with her?”

“I didn’t see them. I’m guessing they’re holding them in another location. I need you to get Max on the phone and tell him that the FBI says they’re getting a SWAT team together—”

“Michael, I don’t think we can count on the FBI. Something’s not right.”

“I agree, but Max thinks they’re legit. Tell him the FBI may be too late. Tell him we need backup now.”

“Can you get into the house?” Cathy asked.

“Not yet.”

“Tell me where you are. Holly and I are on the way.”

“No, stay where you are. I don’t want you anywhere near this place.”

“Michael, that’s ridiculous. We can help you!”

“I want Max and his people to help me. Tell him to come down Highway 64,” he said, and described the route he’d taken to the red mailbox and the driveway. “Halfway down the driveway, he’ll see Miller’s van. He’s in it, but he’s not going anywhere.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Michael, be careful.”

“I will,” he said.

“Don’t hang up! Leave the phone on so I can hear what’s happening. I’ll call Max from Holly’s phone.”

“All right,” he said. Leaving his earpiece in, he slid his phone into his jeans pocket.

He checked his watch again. How much longer? Suddenly something bumped the back of his head, and he froze. “Don’t move or I’ll kill you.” A man’s voice. “Drop the gun, right now.” Michael hesitated. If he swung around, knocked the gun from the man’s hand, kicked his groin . . . But he didn’t know how many people were back there. If it was just Steven, he could take him. But what if his brothers were there too? What if there were others?

“Drop the gun now,” the man said, his voice rising in pitch.

In the earpiece, Cathy said, “Michael, who is that?”

Michael couldn’t answer. He tossed his gun to the side, out of the man’s reach, and slowly turned around. “Steven Harper,” he said.

Steven nodded. “Now hand me the phone.”

Michael pulled it out of his pocket, glanced down at it. The screen was black. It wasn’t obvious it was connected. He handed it to Steven. His Bluetooth had a thirty-foot range, so Cathy would still be able to hear. Steven didn’t take the Bluetooth.

“Lean against that tree, hands over your head.”

Michael did as he said, and Steven frisked him clumsily down his back, around to his chest, under his arms, down his legs.

Satisfied, Steven backed up. “We’re going into the house now, nice and easy. And you’re going to tell us who you called. Who’s on their way?”

Michael kept his hands in the air—and his Bluetooth in his ear—as he stepped slowly toward the door, eager to get inside.

The door flew open, and Juliet gasped as Michael stepped in, hands over his head. Steven was behind him, prodding him inside with a gun.

“Michael!”

“Juliet! Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “My children . . . they kidnapped them!”

Amber shot out of her chair. “How did he get here? How did he know where we are?”

Steven shook his head and shoved Michael into a chair next to Juliet. “I don’t know, but he was talking on the phone.” He grabbed the Bluetooth out of Michael’s ear and tossed it onto the desk.

Amber’s expression turned rabid. “Who did you tell?” she demanded. “How did you find us?”

Michael’s jaw muscle popped. “You have a mole in your operation,” he said. “You can’t trust anybody, can you, Amber?”

“Who knows?” she demanded.

“The FBI, the police department—they’re on their way. If you want to leave, you better do it now.”

Juliet breathed out relief. They were coming for her. They would rescue her and find her children, and Amber, Steven, Miller, and everyone else involved would be arrested and taken off the street. The nightmare would finally be over.

But . . . would the FBI help her? Or were they working with Amber and the others?

Enraged, Amber ran to the front door, still open, and looked out. From her chair, Juliet could see out too. She saw nothing but trees.

Amber turned back, sweat glistening on her face. “I have to hurry. Steven, just kill him!”

Steven hesitated.

“You don’t want to do that, Steven,” Juliet said. “She’s
going to take the money and run. Miller already has millions in cash, and what’ll you get? Life in prison?”

She had hit home. Steven winced and wiped his face with his wrist.

“Shut her up!” Amber said, going back to the computer and typing furiously.

“That was cash in those boxes he put in his van,” Juliet said. “They’re using you to do their dirty work, but you’ll wind up like Henderson, taking the fall for murder.”

Steven kept his gun trained on them, the one he’d taken from Michael tucked into his jeans. He craned his neck to see what was on the computer screen. Teeth gritted, Amber was working through another international bank’s website, typing the password into the box.

Michael’s eyes met Juliet’s, and she understood his signal to get ready. She moved her feet under her, checked her hands. They were bound at the wrists in front of her, but she prepared to use them to clutch or scratch or swing. Anything she had to do.

As Steven cocked his revolver, Michael flung himself out of the chair, knocking Steven back. As the man fell, Michael stayed on top of him, kneeing his groin until he let go of the gun and curled up in pain.

Michael grabbed it, but Steven pulled the other one out of his waistband.

“Kill him!” Amber shouted.

Suddenly Juliet came off the floor, hands and feet bound, and hurled herself at Steven. He dropped his gun, and it slid across the floor. Amber dove for it. Juliet got her feet under her and hurled herself again, knocking Amber to the floor. The woman turned over and grabbed Juliet’s face, trying to gouge
her long fingernails into Juliet’s eyes. Juliet turned her head and opened her hands as far as she could—just far enough to get her fingers around Amber’s throat. The tape around her wrists cut into her skin, but she fought it, keeping Amber under control. As Amber’s face turned purple, she groped for the gun. Juliet flung Amber to the side, away from the gun, and dove for it herself. She grabbed it in both bound hands and rolled to her back, aiming it at Amber. “Don’t move!” she said. “I don’t need another excuse to kill you.”

A table overturned, a vase crashed. Michael was rolling with Steven, both struggling for Michael’s gun. Juliet looked for a chance to shoot Steven, but he was too close to Michael.

They rolled and struggled for the gun until they were outside on the porch, out of Juliet’s sight.

“Put the gun down,” Amber told Juliet from the floor, mascara tears staining her sweating face. “You can’t kill the mother of a little baby. It would be on your conscience forever.”

Juliet wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. “I don’t have to kill you,” she said. “If you tell me where my children are, we can all walk away from this. If not, I won’t have any trouble pulling this trigger.”

Amber lay on the floor, her lips curling in a sneer. “Bob said you couldn’t hurt a fly. How would you explain murder to your church?”

Something snapped in Juliet, and lifting the gun, she fired into the wall, making Amber jump and scream. Juliet brought the gun back down to Amber’s face. “Underestimating me will be the last mistake you ever make,” she said through her teeth.
“Where are my children?”

Just then she heard voices yelling out in the yard, and another gunshot fired. Amber looked toward the open door.
Juliet’s heart sank. Had Michael been shot? Keeping her gun trained on Amber, she got to her feet and backed to the door to look out into the yard.

The FBI had arrived, their guns fixed on Michael and Steven.

She saw Blue and Darren in flak jackets, moving toward the house. Steven and Michael were still in a clinch on the ground, struggling for the gun.

Her chest tightened. Could she trust Darren and his partner, or would they turn on her and Michael?

“Freeze!” Darren yelled. “Drop the gun and get on the ground, arms behind your head! Now!”

Steven stopped fighting and fell back on the ground. Turning over, face down, he put his hands behind his head. “It was Amber and Leonard Miller. I’m just the hired help. I didn’t even know what they were up to!”

Juliet took a deep breath, her eyes going back and forth from Amber inside on the floor to Steven and Michael on the ground. Michael took the gun he’d been struggling for and started to get to his feet.

Suddenly, Darren fired. Michael dropped with a thud.

“No!” Juliet screamed.

Darren ignored her and turned the gun on Steven. As if it were routine, he fired again, the bullet blasting through the back of Steven’s head. Steven went limp, blood pooling around his face.

Juliet told herself to shoot him, then Blue, approaching right behind him. But she couldn’t move. None of it made sense. Her brain couldn’t grasp it. She stood holding the gun as her hus-band’s high school friend, the local FBI bureau chief, stepped over Steven, came inside, assessed the situation, and aimed at Amber.

Before Juliet could make herself breathe, he shot Amber. Juliet screamed again as Amber’s body jolted, then stilled. Juliet raised her gun to Darren, but immediately felt the barrel of a gun on the back of her head. “Drop the gun,” Blue said.

She breathed in a sob and let the gun fall. “Whose side are you on? What are you doing?”

Darren had a vacant look in his eyes, void of compassion or interest. He picked up the gun Juliet had dropped and bent down to put it in Amber’s limp hand.

Juliet didn’t know what was happening. “Darren . . . she knew where my kids are. She could have taken us to them . . . Why did you shoot Michael?
Please!
”

Still stooped, he raised the gun in Amber’s hand, aimed at Juliet, and put the dead woman’s finger over the trigger.

CHAPTER 59

I
n the car by the red mailbox, Cathy and Holly heard gunfire, and Juliet’s sobbing questions to Darren Clement through Michael’s phone.

They heard her ask why Darren had shot Michael.

“Michael!” Cathy muttered as she leaped out of the car.

Holly followed her. “Cathy, wait!”

“No,” she cried. “You stay here and call Max. Tell him everything we heard. Tell him to hurry!”

“But I’m coming with you!”

“You have a baby to think about!” Cathy shouted. “Please, stay here. I need you to call Max!”

Holly stood still and watched her go.

Cathy went through the woods instead of the dirt road, holding her gun in both hands, barrel pointing down, ready to fire if she needed to. She stepped over brush and broken limbs, crackling through dead leaves and dirt.

She saw Miller’s car parked where Michael had left it. She
didn’t stop to look inside. Instead she jumped over logs and leaped over holes, branches and thorns snagging her jeans as she ran. She paused, hidden in the brush at the edge of the clearing where she could see the house. Two men lay limp on the ground.

One of them was Michael.
Oh, dear God, please don’t
take him. I can’t do this again. Please, God!

She could see people in the house and heard Juliet’s crying voice. Choosing an angle hidden from most of the windows, she raced to the building, stole up onto the porch, crept across it to the door.

She could see inside, Juliet standing in front of Blue, with Blue’s gun to her head. Clement was on the floor, holding Amber’s hand. There was a gun in it, and he was lifting it to Juliet. Cathy knew what he was doing—setting the stage for the story that Amber had killed Juliet.

Cathy planted her feet and centered her sights above Darren’s vest. She fired and Darren fell back. She turned her gun to Blue just as the woman spun toward her. Cathy fired again. Blue dropped.

Juliet fell to her knees, weeping with relief. “Cathy . . .”

“Get up,” Cathy told her, ripping the tape off of Juliet’s wrists. “See if they’re dead, and if they’re not, tie them up. I have to see about Michael.”

“Go!” Juliet said, bending to untape her ankles.

Cathy ran out to Michael. His wound was through his rib cage, bleeding out through his back. “No!” she cried. “Please, Michael! Stay with me.” She touched the artery in his neck and felt a slight pulse. He wasn’t dead. “God, please, you’ve got to save him!” she cried. She found the entry and exit wounds, applied pressure, tried to stop the bleeding.