Ring of Lies (64 page)

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Authors: Victoria Howard

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They rounded a bend, and there, parked in a small clearing was Jack’s Ford Explorer, and next to it a Dodge Ram pickup.

 

Jack p
laced
a restraining hand on her arm.

Wait here while I check things out.

Without taking his eyes off both vehicles, he crept forward, gun in hand. The driver’s door was open, but the cab was empty. He holstered his weapon then did a quick search of the interior, but found nothing more than an empty Coke bottle.

 

He slipped the keys he removed from the shooter’s pocket into the ignition and started the engine, then reversed back down the track to where Grace wait
ed
.

 


Get in.

 

Grace dropped the backpack onto the floor between her feet, and fastened the seatbelt. Glancing at the dashboard clock she saw that it was just after midnight. She wrapped her arms around her chest and peered at Jack.

 


What happens now?

 


According to the GPS there’s a Ranger Station about three miles from here. There’ll be a phone. We can call Mike, fill him in, and have him send help.

 

They fell into silence disturbed only by the sound of the pickup’s engine. Gradually, the trees thinned out and marsh and sawgrass took over. She stared out into the darkness, and felt only fear.

 

So much had happened in so little time, that she no sooner came to terms with one event, when
another knocked her sideways
. And then there was Jack. Tonight the agent had taken charge, cool, efficient, yet at the same time gentle and protective.

 

Rain lashed the windows, overwhelming the wipers, misting the windows. Jack leaned forward and scrubbed a hand over the glass.

 


There!

Grace said, pointing to a single story
log cabin
rising out of the darkness.

It looks deserted.

 


Probably closed for the Christmas holidays.

 

Jack manoeuvred the pickup into position in front of the
building
and cut the engine. A single light illuminated the door. Grace could make out a series of birdfeeders hanging from the eaves. A row of pots, filled with a variety of plants and flowers
,
sat under the porch.
An observation tower
stood off to one side
.

 


Bring the backpack,

Jack said and go
t out of the car. He lifted a ty
re iron out of the toolbox in the back of the pickup and used it to jimmy open the shuttered door. An alarm sounded, filling the air with a
high-pitched
wail.

 

Grace clapped her hand over her ears.

Can’t you stop it?

 


Sure.

He swung the ty
re iron at the control panel, smashing it to pieces then flipped on the lights. An interactiv
e display covered the back wall. T
o the left of the entrance there was a retail area, selling
guidebooks
, videos, and clothing.

 

Jack strode over to the cash register. A cordless phone lay on the counter next to it. He picked it up and listened for a dial tone.

 


Take some clothes off the rack, and see if you can find anything to eat and drink. I’m going to call Mike.

 

Grace grabbed a sweatshirt and fleece jacket from the rack, and a pair of hiking socks from the stand, then followed the signs to ladies room. Once inside she stripped off her T-shirt and used it, along with a whole pack of paper towels to dry herself off as best she could. The sweatshirt was three sizes too big, but at least it was warm and dry. There was nothing s
he could do about her wet jeans
or shoes.

 

The staff kitchen was small and well equipped, but the cupboards and refrigerator were empty.

 

Jack hung up the phone as she returned.

Mike’s sending a helicopter. It should be here within the hour.

He pulled
a
T-shirt off the rack and changed into it.

There’s a sofa over there. Why don’t you lie down and get some rest? Here use these as a pillow.

He tossed her a couple of
thick fleece jackets
.

 


What about you?

 


I’m okay.

 

Grace stretched out. Weariness swamped her, yet something troubled her.

That guy…
how did he know where to find us?

 


He must have followed us.

 

Grace shook her head.

All the way from
the island
to Miami and back? I don’t think so.

 

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but she was right. He would have noticed the vehicle tailing him, which meant that someone had to have tipped the guy off.
But who?

 

He slid off the sofa and started to pace. Grace heard a fluttering in the distance. It grew louder.

 


Helicopter,

Jack said.

Thank God for Mike.

 

After that things moved quickly. Jack relayed information regarding the location of the shooter to the police and medical examiner. Grace sat on the sofa watching. It was bad enough that she’d witnessed the incident, without hearing Jack recant the events again and again.

 

People came and went. Minutes became hours. Someone wrapped a blanket round her shoulders
and offered her a hot drink from a flask
. The sun was an orange
and gold
glow
o
n the eastern
horizon
when Jack’s shadow fell over her.

 


The c
ops and medical examiner will be here for hours yet. It’s time to go.

 

Grace stood and followed him out to the waiting car. She was too tired to enquire where it had come from. Instead she sank gratefully into the leather passenger seat. Every bone in her body ached. She long
ed for a long soak in a hot tub
and
eight hours
uninterrupted
sleep.

 

The digital clock on the dashboard
flashed
eleven fifty-five
am,
as they drove across the causeway to Gasparilla Island. Somewhere along the way she’d drifted off to sleep, lulled by the drone of
ty
res on tarmac. She sat up and rolled her neck, yawning.

 


Another few minutes and you can crawl into bed.

 

Grace shook her head,
gaz
ing his face the whole time.

Tea, a shower
,
and then bed.

 

He raised an eyebrow. She seemed steadier than he expected.

The great British cure-all.

 


Don’t mock it. Many a crisis has been averted over a pot of tea.

 


You’ve changed, Grace. You’ve been threatene
d, shot at and yet you seem so…I don’t know…
resilient.

 


Perhaps I’ve always been this strong, but Daniel’s domineering personality overwhelmed me. I’ve had time to accept that he was involved in something illegal. He exerted cont
rol over me during our marriage.
I won’t allow him to control my life from the grave.

She stared straight ahead.

I wonder who he really was.

 


We may never find out. Does that bother you?

 


It did at first, b
ut no longer. Who
do you think tried
to kill us?

she asked as they entered the house.

 


Someone who thinks we’re getting too close to the truth,

he suggested.

 

Grace went straight to the kitchen. Wearily, she filled the kettle but didn’t switch it on. Instead, she rested her back against the counter.

The truth about what?

 


Daniel Elliott’s true identity. The mastermind behind the scam. I’m not sure which.

 

She didn’t answer right away, but thought carefully about his suggestion.

But if they kill me, how will they get the money?

 


I don’t know, Grace. Maybe the money isn’t that important to them, but the information contained on the computer disks is. I think it’s safe to assume there’s a connection—a common denominator between
Elliott
, Parous, Jacobs, and you. I just don’t know what
or who
it is yet.

 


It can’t be anything else because I’ve told you all I know.

 


I’m not so sure. There’s something we’re missing
,
a vital piece of information, an overheard conversation perhaps
,
that links the
four
of you. I think you should let me put you into the witness protection scheme.

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