She Can Run (13 page)

“How quiet?”

Jack leaned closer. “Cone of silence.”

Wes nodded. “OK.”

“I need some information on a woman.” Jack spelled Beth’s full name and provided Wes with her Social Security number and driver’s license information as well. “Whatever you can find without attracting any attention.”

“No problem. Give me a couple of days.” If Wes was surprised by Jack’s request, he kept it to himself.

CHAPTER TEN

A flash of color appeared among the trees. He adjusted the lens of his camera. Beth and the children emerged from the woods and walked toward the barn. The little girl skipped by her mother’s side, while the boy walked a few paces ahead.

He zoomed in, turning the camera vertically to cut the children out of the picture.

Click.

He checked the LCD screen and zoomed out for a full body shot.

Her jeans were faded and worn, the denim molded to her body by age. Small breasts bobbed under the thin fabric of her T-shirt. He adjusted the focus, pressed the shutter.

Click.

She was definitely the one.

The thought of lying awake thinking about her for another night tormented him. She was going to be the perfection he craved. His heartbeat accelerated as he pictured her lovely face and petite, toned body, forced to submit to him in terror.

Placing her hands on her knees, she leaned forward to talk to the child. His finger slid to the shutter release button. The top of the little girl’s head popped back into the frame at the last second.

He waited until the child moved out of the way.

Click.

Through the camera’s lens, he sized up the boy. He was taller than his mother, but still lanky, a bit uncoordinated, not much of a threat.

He shifted his position in the tree and zoomed in for a close-up. Her dark hair was bound into a ponytail, which swung with her stride. The breeze gusted. A few tendrils of hair escaped the elastic band and blew around her head.

Click.

She lifted her chin and scanned the overcast sky with a small frown. The delicate bone structure of her face, her wide green eyes, and her full lips were flawless. Classic.

Click
.

She pushed a stray hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

Click
.

They disappeared into the barn. When they emerged, Beth led a fat bay gelding to the fence and wound the rope around the top rail. She bent over at the waist and picked up one of the horse’s hooves. The faded denim stretched across her buttocks.

Click.

He slid the camera back into its case and stowed it in his backpack. Then he took out a notebook and diligently recorded the time of her arrival and departure at the barn. This would be the greatest catch of his career, his own personal playoff. After he finished with her, he’d need to move on to a new playing field. Lady Luck had been supportive of him so far, but he knew if he pushed her, the bitch would turn on him.

He sighed. The last one had given him so very much pleasure. The best so far, but eventually she’d submitted, as they all did.

He relived the memory, the play of the knife upon her soft flesh, her small body squirming in terror and pain under his greater weight. He felt the pulse in her throat cease the moment her heart stopped beating. If he closed his eyes right now, he could still see the glaze wash over her eyes as her soul lifted free. She’d been beautiful in life and in death.

He took a deep breath.

The power over life and death intoxicated him.

Before she’d gone, Amelia had taught him a valuable lesson, and for that he was grateful. It was far more satisfying to break the will of a smart, confident woman. Compared to the lovely Amelia, working with whores was like shooting fish in a barrel.

He finally understood why some hunters trekked all the way to Africa to shoot big game. What was more of a challenge to kill: a deer or a lion?

Closing his notebook, he turned his attention back to Beth. He lifted the binoculars to his eyes to see her more clearly.

He was so excited about their date.

Since he had never planned an event this far in advance, he relished the anticipation. Stalking and watching his victim, planning every detail of the abduction, added so much excitement to his game. Much more tantalizing than trolling for an opportunity to present itself.

He could already see her in his mind’s eye: gagged and bound spread-eagle in his playroom. She would be naked, her eyes glazed with terror. He’d tell her everything he was going to do first to increase her fear. There was nothing like the smell of purely feminine panic. Someone should bottle it as perfume.

He smiled as a new thought occurred to him. Maybe he would hold on to her for a few days. Add yet another new element to the game.

Did he dare? Of course he did.

In fact, they could make a weekend of it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

James stepped back into the crowd of reporters and snapped another picture. Resting the camera on its strap, he brushed aside the fake press pass that dangled from a cord around his neck.

At the ribbon cutting ceremony for a pea-sized patch of mulch converted from vacant lot to playground, Congressman Baker was giving a speech on family values, laying on the bullshit thick as cream cheese. Total media whore. Couldn’t get enough press. Which was OK with James because no one noticed an extra reporter.

Dickwad was a busy man, constantly attending charity events and giving speeches, soaking up attention like a dry sponge.

Christ. If James really had to do this for a living, he’d eat a bullet.

Behind the podium Baker hemorrhaged lies; James blocked out the sound. Warm and dry, the early morning sunlight heated his back as he lifted the camera again.

Did Baker really think rolling up the sleeves of a Turnbull & Asser dress shirt magically transformed him into a workingman? There was no way those Ferragamo oxfords would ever be confused with a pair of Dockers.

James glanced around him at the sea of dark blue, tropical weight wool. Didn’t matter. This was Washington, DC. No real people here anyway. Even the media looked bored. Nothing less than murder or sordid sexual scandal got their juices flowing. They’d probably heard it all, but they kept the cameras rolling anyway. Meanwhile, up-and-coming Congressman Baker looked like a fucking movie star on TV.

Baker waved to the crowd and stepped down from the dais. James snapped a continuous stream of pictures as the congressman moved toward the black Town Car parked at the curb and conferred with a slightly younger, dark-haired man, his aide, Aaron Myers. The television news crews kept pace, shoving microphones in front of Baker’s face in a last-ditch effort to get one more comment.

Baker raised a hand and flashed the press a final, commercial-worthy smile.

So far, James hadn’t come up with any dirt on Golden Boy Baker, but it wasn’t for lack of effort. He’d researched Beth’s supposed disappearance. Baker was claiming his wife had tried to commit suicide then run away. But James knew better. There was no way Beth had ever tried to kill herself. She was too devoted to her children. And there was nothing wrong with her mental state. Baker must have set her up.

But why?

After the police investigation had stalled, Baker’d hired some very expensive private investigators. They were still on his payroll. Evidence to the public that the politician was devoted to finding his unstable, self-destructive wife. Baker was now the media champion of mental health issues, and still milking a good deal of publicity from Beth’s disappearance a year later.

Through the lens, James watched Myers nod to Baker and pull a PDA from the chest pocket of his tailored suit jacket. The aide tapped on the face with a stylus. A uniformed chauffeur opened the back door, and Myers slid into the car. Baker turned to give the crowd a last wave before joining him.

James lowered the camera and stared. The back of his neck itched.

The next item on Baker’s agenda was a charity luncheon to benefit the homeless. What a world. Only a politician could figure out a way to raise money while eating lobster puffs and drinking champagne.

James knew where Baker was headed because he’d hacked into the congressman’s schedule, which was so full for the next few days that he wouldn’t be making a trip home to his posh Main Line Philadelphia home.

This morning’s vision had been bright enough that he knew he had to get moving. Some nasty shit was headed Beth’s way. He still needed to touch Beth’s silver medal to start the psychic film rolling, though. So he was fairly sure it wasn’t going to happen in the next few days.

James clicked off the digital camera, reached into the thigh pocket of his cargo pants, and snapped the lens cap into place. He’d download today’s pictures onto his laptop as soon as he got back to his hotel. Something nagged at him. Something he’d seen this morning just wasn’t right.

He’d have to trail Baker for just a little longer and cross his fingers that Beth would be OK.

Congressman Richard Baker sat at his desk, his opened and sorted mail stacked in front of him. His secretary had also brought him a cup of excellent coffee. He had an hour to kill before the charity luncheon. He’d just begun to skim through the pile when the intercom beeped at his elbow. Anita connected the incoming call.

“Thirty minutes. You know where.” The line went dead. The taste in his mouth turned acrid.

Blotting his forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief, he called his driver. Then he gave his aide, Aaron, a quick assignment and asked him to meet him at the luncheon. There was no need for Aaron to get involved. Richard was more than capable of taking care of the situation.

A half hour later, his car drew to a stop next to a sleek Town Car nearly identical to his own in the middle of Arlington National Cemetery. The cars were surrounded by an endless sea of white crosses. Instructing his driver to stay put, he exited his own vehicle and slid into the other sedan.

Privacy glass isolated the rear seat.

A small, lean man sat in the far corner of the back seat, his face concealed in shadow. “I assume, since you paid me last time, that you do not want that DVD sent to the media.”

Sweat trickled down Richard’s back absorbed by his thick Egyptian cotton shirt as he nodded his assent. The man was unimpressive at first glance, but Richard knew those feral black eyes were as vicious as a jackal’s. He’d already taken a chunk out of Richard, and like a true scavenger, he was back for another piece.

“Then you’ll need to make another installment.” The man spoke quietly, but there was no mistaking the malice in his tone. “Same amount. Next week.”

This had all started with one indiscretion shortly after his wedding. He’d been desperate. Staying on the straight and narrow all through his courtship of Elizabeth had proved harder than he’d anticipated. He never should have married her, regardless of the polls. His father had insisted that he needed a family to secure the office. Sure, he’d won the election, but now his secret was out there, floating around with Elizabeth. Ironically, it was a copy of the same DVD this man held that his wife had seen that fateful night when she’d barged in on him.

This asshole was going to bleed him as long as he drew breath. His blackmailer was the only other person who knew his secret, and he knew he’d have to pay up if he wanted to keep it that way.

Richard straightened his tie. “I don’t have access to that kind of cash.”

“I don’t want to hear excuses, and don’t get snotty with me, pretty boy. That’s your problem, not mine. The folks at CNN would love to get their hands on your debut film.”

Richard’s throat constricted. He gritted his teeth and nodded.

Back in his own car, he put on his happy face and proceeded directly to the luncheon, where he did what he did best: he acted. He returned to his office later that afternoon grim but determined. It was time he asked for some assistance with this situation. This time next week, his blackmailer would be receiving last rites instead of payment.

Richard pushed the intercom on his desk. “Anita, please phone my father’s secretary and find out when he’ll be back from New York. Tell her it’s important.” He sat back in his leather chair. His gaze drifted to the window.

No doubt about it. The man had him by the gonads and was likely to haunt him forever. To add to his load, the men his father hired were still unable to find Elizabeth after that debacle in Virginia. It was all her fault, really. Not only couldn’t she satisfy him, but she’d spied on him, her own husband. Then she ran away, publicly humiliating him. Now she was a loose end that he simply couldn’t afford to leave untied.

Unforgivable.

As soon as they found her, he would make her pay. Difference scenarios flipped through his brain. It had to be painful, and not too quick. She deserved to be punished, and he’d earned the pleasure her punishment would give him. The thought of his father’s men taking care of her left him feeling distinctly unsatisfied. His dad’s man Johnson could handle the blackmailer. After all, that was business. Elizabeth’s betrayal was personal.