Hostage (23 page)

“At that point, he was a nonviolent offender. He had Internet access with a guard looking over his shoulder. A guard with no way of knowing that the family research Jacoby was engaged in could produce anything dangerous.”

“Okay. And then?”

“He researched his half sister, then the Alexander family she’d married into. Read about Alexander House. When he got out of prison that time, he actually stayed there. But neither Anna nor her brother-in-law were in residence.”

“And we know all this how?”

Not exactly answering, Bishop said, “We’ll find his name in the guest registry; he stayed at the hotel for a week nearly two years ago.”

“Long before the bank robbery.”

“Yes. And on that trip to Alexander House, he passed through Devil’s Gap, it being the closest town to the hotel.”

Tony waited a moment, then asked, “And?”

“And he was drawn here, to this mountain.”

“Why?”

“That head injury in prison. He was already doing things he couldn’t have logically explained. Going to Alexander House to meet the sister he hadn’t known existed was probably one of the last real decisions or choices he actually made with a clear mind. Ironic.”

“Because—?”

“Because that was the beginning of the end for Jacoby. The end probably would have come eventually, since he was bound to land back in jail at some point and again be surrounded by dark energy. But visiting Alexander House, and then coming to this mountain, sealed his fate.”

Tony didn’t find that at all melodramatic, which rather surprised him. “He wasn’t strong enough to fight it, I gather.”

“No. We both know evil, Tony; it’s insidious, especially if you don’t know it’s . . . lurking. By the time he realized, if he even did, it was far too late for him to regain control.”

“So it was something else in him, that evil, that wanted him at the cabin?”

“On one side of a natural but very powerful energy vortex.”

Tony remained silent this time until, to his relief, a logging road finally spilled them out onto a real, if winding, blacktop road. Then he spoke slowly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Jacoby being controlled like that, being lured so specifically, implies that the energy was . . . had . . . a consciousness long before Alexander House or Devil’s Gap, or that cabin back there.”

Bishop was silent.

So Tony tried again. “Or maybe . . . was being used by a consciousness, at least in the beginning. Before any dark energy at the mouth of a vortex could come out and play. Maybe by a single human mind.”

“Not so sure about the human part,” Bishop said finally.

“Wait a minute—this was done by a person?”

“You heard the sheriff. Not counting the victim, there were only three people up here this last week. Callie, Luther, and Jacoby. All were affected by the energy of the vortex, but only Jacoby was being controlled by it.”

“So . . . whoever it was, whoever started everything, they weren’t on the mountain.”

“No.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“I have my suspicions.”

Suspicions Tony knew Bishop would keep to himself until he was certain of his facts. Despite the truth that his agents and operatives were more often than not left in the dark about certain facts of their investigations, Bishop virtually always knew more than he shared.

And sometimes that was a lot.

“The point,” Bishop said, “is that we won this round.”

“There’ll be another?” Tony asked warily.

The Jeep rounded a curve and came suddenly upon the rather odd little town called Devil’s Gap, and as Bishop drove down the single main street toward the town’s single medical clinic, he said, “One thing I’ve learned is that sometimes an enemy can haunt you for a long time.”

* * *

HOLLIS WAS THOROUGHLY
exasperated. “He has the jet. And could certainly get a chopper from the airport. Why the hell didn’t he get here last night?”

“Brooke didn’t say he would,” DeMarco reminded her calmly. “She just said he was on his way.”

“And is he coming by way of California? From a starting point of somewhere near Boston?”

“I have no idea.”

She glared at him. “Why are you so calm? Yesterday you were pissed at him.”

“I’m still pissed. But also very curious. For one thing, even you admitted that it wasn’t
like
a spirit to offer such very specific information as Brooke did about the money. Nor is it usual for a spirit to then warn us to keep quiet about it until Bishop got here.”

“Yeah, that part of it is seriously annoying. Especially after she pointed the finger at Owen. I could barely look at him last night, and I’m glad we haven’t seen him yet today.” She frowned. “Are you packed?”

“Yeah, same as you.” He leaned in the doorway to his bedroom and watched her pacing their shared sitting room. “And I imagine our hosts are wondering why we haven’t left yet.”

“Probably haven’t left their own bedrooms. I don’t think we’ve ever seen them before ten, have we?”

“No, neither one seems to be an early riser.”

“But it’s nearly ten now, right?” Like most SCU agents, Hollis couldn’t wear a watch. In fact, if she got too close and most certainly if she touched it, she could stop a clock. Easily.

DeMarco was the rare SCU agent who could wear a watch. But this morning, when he looked at the one on his wrist, she knew that had changed.

“Stopped on you, huh?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound either surprised or annoyed, merely matter-of-fact. “But the clock in my head is still working; it’s quarter to ten.”

“Okay. I say we take our bags and head downstairs. If Bishop isn’t here by the time we get the car loaded, we can damned well either confront Owen or start looking for the money ourselves.”

“We only have Brooke’s word for it that Anna even
has
a half brother. I couldn’t find any trace of that information last night, remember.”

Gloomy, she said, “Yeah, but you also couldn’t get very deeply into the genealogy stuff, not with the Internet connections here. Besides, Bishop knew. You heard it in his voice when we called him, just like I did. He was just evasive enough to let it show. What I can’t figure out is what’s up with all the weird secrecy. This
kind
of secrecy, I should say. And the delay. Can
you
remember a case where he put his agents on hold until he got there himself?”

“That’s not exactly what he’s doing.”

“Because this wasn’t supposed to be a case? He knew it was a case when he sent us here. Whether he knew for sure
when
he sent us might be open for debate, but I’m betting one thing he was certain of was that he needed two teams in specific places to accomplish whatever his goal was. He knew about the vortex. Maybe he needed us here to confirm it, and to help close it, but he knew about it.”

“And the money?”

Hollis was frowning. “Did Bishop know Owen has it? I don’t know, maybe. He’s got such a damned Machiavellian mind it’s sure as hell possible. And it’s going to get him into trouble one day. Serious trouble.”

“Most of us seem to be in agreement on that point.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I know. Come on, let’s go downstairs. I can’t stand just waiting around without doing anything.”

“You won’t get an argument.”

SIXTEEN

The timing was perfect. Hollis and DeMarco reached the bottom of the stairs just as Thomas was admitting Bishop—and Tony Harte.

“I had to come along,” he said to his fellow team members. “Still trying to get it all worked out in my head.”

“Join the club,” Hollis said with some feeling. But she was too professional to air her grievances in front of the stately butler, so all she added, to him, was, “Thomas, could you please tell Anna and Owen that we’d like to speak to them before we leave? We’ll wait in the parlor.”

“Of course, miss.”

Tony stared after him, then raised his brows at Hollis. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, he’s from another age. This way.” She led them all into the Grand Parlor and closed the door behind them.

But it was DeMarco who spoke first. “Who did you tell him you were?” he asked Bishop. “I’m guessing the truth might spook Owen, to say the least.”

“I spoke to Mrs. Alexander earlier this morning and told her there was a family matter I needed to discuss with her. From what you’ve said about Owen Alexander, I expect he’ll join us out of curiosity.”

“Probably,” DeMarco agreed.

Hollis was looking at her boss through narrowed eyes. “I take it your morning has been busy?”

Bishop smiled faintly. “The other side of the vortex.”

Dammit, he has a way of taking the wind out of my sails.
She wondered how many of her fellow agents had read that thought, but her tone was milder when she said, “I hope nobody was hurt. We thought we heard a gunshot just before the last door was sealed.”

“Callie Davis was wounded, though not with a gun. She’s fine, recovering in the clinic in Devil’s Gap.”

Hollis blinked. “We were that close?”

“With the town and half a mountain between you, yes.” He briefly explained that Callie had been informally teamed with a Haven operative, who had also been wounded by Cole Jacoby.

And that Luther Brinkman had shot and killed Jacoby.

“Jacoby the bank robber? Jacoby who was Anna’s half brother?” Hollis wanted to know.

“Yes. But half siblings separated by a lot of years and distance; the two families were never blended. As far as I can tell, Anna never even met Cole Jacoby when they were kids. She’s probably forgotten he ever existed.”

“If she even knew,” DeMarco offered.

Bishop nodded. “Entirely possible. But Jacoby knew; when we looked more closely at his history, we found he’d done research a couple of years ago. And came here, looking for Mrs. Alexander.”

“She wasn’t here?” Hollis guessed.

“No. But he had the chance to explore the place. It was after the biggest robbery of his life that he returned here, believing this would be a safe place to stash the money. But since she again wasn’t here at the time, and since Owen Alexander appears to have made some sort of deal with Jacoby, I doubt he would have told her about the visit.”

Tony looked at Hollis, again with lifted brows. “Is Alexander the sort of man who’d be willing to hide nearly ten million dollars in stolen currency?”

“I wouldn’t have said so.” She frowned. “Unless he was lying to us, he more or less relinquished control of the family business but stayed on the board of directors. Not really the actions of an ambitious or greedy man, right? No sign either he or his sister-in-law was in financial trouble. And no signs of criminal leanings in his background. Other than one bad mistake he made as a kid and has been haunted by ever since, he appears to have walked the straight and narrow.”

She briefly explained about Jamie Bell.

“Well, if you ask me,” Tony said, “the only possible explanation is—”

The door opened to admit Anna, followed closely by Owen.

Under her breath, Hollis said to Tony, “Your timing sucks.”

“Or not,” he said.

Hollis didn’t get a chance to respond to that, distracted by the introductions.

Anna, the perfect hostess, led the way to one of the larger seating groups in the room so everyone could sit down, though she was clearly somewhat bewildered.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand how all of you are connected? Mr. Bishop said this was about a family matter?”

Distracted again, this time by the odd idea of Bishop being a mister rather than an agent, Hollis almost missed his response to Anna.

“It’s Agent Bishop, Mrs. Alexander. I’m with the FBI.”

Owen scowled at him. “ID?”

Bishop produced his credentials, seemingly unmoved by the way Owen very intently studied them before passing them back to him.

“What does the FBI want with Anna?” he demanded of Bishop. “It
was
her you asked to see, wasn’t it?”

Pleasantly, Bishop answered, “Because this concerns her family, Mr. Alexander. Ma’am, were you aware you had a younger half brother?”

Rather blankly, she said, “A brother? No, I had no idea. My parents divorced when I was very young, and he—my father was—”

Bishop helped her out. “He was abusive and your mother was granted a restraining order against him. Shortly after that, he moved to the West Coast and never contacted you or your mother again.”

“It was a long time ago,” Anna said slowly. “He never hit me, and I think my mother recognized what he was quickly enough and was strong enough that leaving him was easy for her. She remarried. My stepfather, who legally adopted me, was always kind—and then eventually I met and married Daniel. I haven’t thought of my biological father in decades. He married again?”

Bishop nodded. “To a woman who didn’t recognize what he was quickly enough, or wasn’t strong enough to leave him when she did. He abused both her and their son, though Cole Jacoby was still young when his father was killed in a bar fight.”

Anna blinked. “A bar fight. I see. And—and my brother?”

“Became a petty criminal who did time in prison, and eventually graduated to bank robberies,” Bishop told her calmly. “Which is where the FBI enters the picture. Ma’am, your half brother was killed yesterday, not very far from here. Shot in self-defense by a private investigator who had tracked him up into the mountains.”

Anna looked completely disconcerted, which Hollis could well understand. It had to be upsetting to learn of the existence of a half brother and be told of his life of crime and his death, all within the space of a few short moments.

“He’s dead?” Owen Alexander looked briefly almost as disconcerted as his sister-in-law, but then his face settled into its customary unrevealing expression.

Bishop looked at him and smiled. It could be many things, that smile of his, but when he directed it at Owen, it was curiously dangerous. “He’s dead, Mr. Alexander. So, of course, we’ve come for the money.”

There was a long, long silence. Hollis allowed her gaze to roam from face to face. Tony and DeMarco were watchful; Anna was still obviously bewildered, Owen’s face was stonelike, and Bishop . . . Well, he was Bishop, giving away nothing of his thoughts or feelings.

Before Owen could say anything, Bishop went on, his tone still calm, even pleasant, but with steel around the edges. “Months ago, Cole Jacoby came here, looking for the half sister his research had uncovered. It had taken him time to discover who she was and where she was, but he had time on his hands then, so he found out about her. And about the Alexander family she married into. About Alexander House, where he actually stayed for a time, just another hotel guest.

“But Cole Jacoby was less interested in establishing family relations than he was in finding a safe place he could turn to if he needed one. This remote place seemed an excellent potential hideaway or safe house. So he . . . banked that information for future need. When he robbed a bank and got away with ten million dollars rather than the considerably smaller amounts that had kept him off the national radar, he knew law enforcement agencies and officials all up and down the eastern part of the country would search for him, and search hard. He knew he’d be caught, and sooner rather than later. So he needed a place to hide the money.”

Owen opened his mouth, but Bishop continued in that calm, relentless voice.

“I don’t know what sort of deal he offered, or why you accepted it, but I can make a few educated guesses. You disliked business, disliked turning your home into a hotel for half the year, but you always enjoyed the good life, so those were necessary evils. Then Jacoby showed up, with millions he’d stolen, and he told you he’d split the money with you, if only you’d keep it hidden until he returned—or until the statute of limitations was up. It seemed a good deal to you. A few years of patience living as you always had, and then a windfall that would allow you to live as you liked, without being tied to a business or a home that was no longer really yours.”

“I want a lawyer,” Owen said, then spoiled the very smart demand by adding impatiently, “You can’t prove any of that. There’s no one here who will testify that anyone named Jacoby ever visited this house.”

In an aside to her partner, Hollis murmured, “More family secrets Thomas will take to his grave?”

“Probably,” he agreed just as quietly.

“And,” Owen added, “even if you have a warrant to search the place, you aren’t going to find stolen millions here.”

Bishop smiled again. “Just because it wasn’t in the original plans for the house doesn’t mean we don’t know about the false panel in your closet, Mr. Alexander. Hiding a space large enough to house all that cash.”

Owen went white. “You can’t— How do you—”

Hollis couldn’t resist. “That’s the thing about spirits, Owen. They tend to know all our secrets. Especially the dangerous ones. And the spirit of a girl you never knew in life knows all about that false panel, how to open it, and what it hides. And she was happy to share the information. Her name was Brooke, by the way.

“Gotcha,” Tony said.