The Face of Deception (9 page)

“Pull ahead,” she said. “We'll be dead in the water if we end up in that ditch.”

“What do you think I'm trying to do?”

Thank God, the freeway was just up ahead.

The Mercedes hit the limo again and it spun toward the ditch.

Logan turned the wheel frantically and managed to keep the car from plunging down the incline.

“That last hit caused them to skid to the other side of the road. That's our chance,” Eve said. “Hit it!”

He stomped on the accelerator.

“They're too close.” Logan was looking in the rearview mirror. “They'll catch us before we reach the freeway.”

“The . . . coffin,” Gil murmured. “Give them—”

“No!” Logan said.

Eve looked down at the coffin at her feet.

“Give them the—”

Eve reached for the door handle.

“What are you doing?” Logan asked.

“Shut up,” Eve said fiercely. “Gil's right. They want this damn coffin. They're going to get it. It's not worth our lives.”

“What if they don't stop? You've given it up for nothing.”

“I don't give a damn. Gil's already been shot over this skull. No one else is going to be hurt. Slow down and keep the car in this lane. No matter what happens.”

The car slowed, but it was still a struggle for her to open the door against the force of the wind.

“They're gaining.”

“Just keep the car in this lane.” She dragged and pushed the coffin toward the door. “And as far ahead as you can.”

“I don't think I—”

“Try.” The wind had flung the door open and she shoved the coffin out. It bounced twice and skidded into the other lane.

“Now, we'll see.” Eve's gaze was fixed on the on-coming Mercedes. “We've just got to hope they—
Yes
.”

The Mercedes had gone past the coffin. At first it seemed as if they were going to ignore it and continue the pursuit. But then it slowed, suddenly made a U-turn, and started back.

“The freeway's just ahead,” Logan said. The limo flew down the road and up the ramp to the freeway.

Cars. Trucks. People.

Relief flooded Eve as Logan merged with the traffic. “Are we safe now?”

“No.” Logan pulled over to the side of the free-way. “Close that door.” He turned to Gil. “How are you doing?”

“Just a scratch. Not even bleeding anymore.”

“I'm not sure it's safe to stop. I'll call Margaret and have her get you some medical help. You're sure you're not bleeding? Can you hold on until we get back to Barrett House?”

“Sure.” Gil's voice was weak. “If I survived your driving, I can survive anything.”

Thank God, he was well enough to joke, Eve thought with relief.

“You couldn't have done any better,” Logan said. “And for that nasty remark I should dump you out and let you walk.”

“I'll shut up.” He closed his eyes. “And since that's so difficult for me, I'll think I'll take a little nap.”

“Bad idea,” Logan said as he pulled back into the traffic. “Stay awake. I have to know if you lose consciousness.”

“Sure. Anything to oblige. I'll just rest my eyes.”

Logan met Eve's gaze in the rearview mirror.

She nodded and his foot pressed harder on the accelerator.

“What the hell are you doing?” Fiske screeched. “You're losing them.”

“Shut up,” Kenner said. “I know what I'm doing. The box is more important.”

“You idiot. Nothing's more important. We went to all this trouble and now you're letting them get—”

“Timwick said that if it came to a choice between retrieving what they went after or getting them, we should go for the retrieval.”

“We can go back for it later. They're just trying to divert us.”

“Do you think that didn't occur to me? I can't take the chance. It's in the middle of the road. It could be damaged or found.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Timwick wants what's in that box.”

Fury jolted through Fiske. There was no way they could catch up with Logan now. All because of Timwick's obsession with that damn box.

And Kenner was just like Timwick, so concerned with the small stuff that he couldn't see what was really important. You took one objective at a time and never let yourself be distracted.

Certainly not by a fucking box.

Two men in white uniforms streamed out of Barrett House as soon as Logan stopped the limo. Gil was transferred to a stretcher and whisked inside.

Eve got out of the car. Her knees were so weak, she had to lean against the fender.

“You okay?” Logan asked.

She nodded.

“I'll tell Margaret to get you a cup of coffee,” he said over his shoulder as he headed toward the house. “I have to make sure Gil is going to be all right.”

Dazed, she watched him disappear. Too much had happened in too short a time for her to comprehend that it was really over. Or even that it had actually happened.

But the crushed side of the limo was mute testimony to that terrifying chase.

And Gil Price's wound was not a figment of her imagination. He could have been killed. They all could have been killed if she hadn't tossed the coffin out of the limo.

“Coffee.” Margaret was thrusting a mug into her hand. “Come into the house and sit down.”

“In a minute. My legs don't seem to be working right now.” She took a sip of the coffee. “How's Gil?”

“Conscious and flippant as hell. The doctor's ready to muzzle him.”

The coffee was strong and the caffeine was beginning to kick in. “How did you get a doctor out here at this time of night?”

“Money moves mountains.” Margaret leaned against the limo. “You scared?”

“Hell, yes. Shouldn't I be? Maybe you're used to people shooting each other, but I'm not.”

“I'm scared too. I never thought—” She drew a shaky breath. “I never expected this. I thought— I don't know what I thought.”

“But you still trust Logan enough to keep working for him?”

“Sure.” She straightened. “But I'm damn well going to ask him for a raise and hazard pay. You ready to go inside now?”

Eve nodded.

Hazard pay. Logan's generosity was making sense to her now. This wasn't about dead cats and vicious vandalism. This was about murder. They had tried to murder Gil. They might have killed all of them if the limo had ended up in that ditch.

“Better?” Logan had come down the stairs. “You have more color.”

“Do I?” She took another sip of coffee. “How's Gil?”

“Flesh wound. Braden says he'll be okay.” He turned to Margaret. “We don't want the police report filed yet. Talk Braden into a delay.”

“Yeah, sure, and let them accuse me of suppressing—” She sighed and headed for the stairs. “I'll take care of it.”

Margaret had reached the top before Logan turned back to Eve. “We need to talk.”

“I'd say that's an understatement.” She moved toward the kitchen. “But, right now, I have an empty cup and I need more coffee.”

He followed her and dropped down into a chair at the table. “I'm sorry you were frightened.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel all warm and fuzzy?” Her hand was shaking as she poured the coffee. “It doesn't. Right now I'm scared, but when I get over it, I'm going to be mad as hell.”

“I know. I can't expect anything else.” He paused. “You were pretty amazing tonight. You probably saved Gil's life. Where did you learn karate?”

“Joe. After Bonnie was— I told you I'd never be a victim again. Joe taught me how to take care of myself.”

He smiled. “And everyone else too, evidently.”

“Somebody had to help him. You obviously thought more of that damn coffin than of your friend. My God, you're obsessed. I'm surprised you agreed to slow down so I could toss that thing out.”

His smile faded. “Gil's been trained to take care of himself too. He had his job. I had mine.”

“And I have mine.” She stared into his eyes. “But I never bargained for anyone shooting at me.”

“I told you they'd try to stop us.”

“You didn't tell me they'd try to murder us.”

“No, I guess I didn't.”

“You know damn well you didn't.” Her voice rose with anger. “The whole thing was a disaster. You risked your life on a wild-goose chase and dragged me along with you. You almost got me killed, you son of a bitch.”

“Yes.”

“And there was no reason for it. I didn't have to be there.”

“Yes, you did.”

“What was I supposed to do? Work on the skull in the damn cornfield?”

“No.”

“Then, why did—”

“Dr. Braden's leaving.” Margaret was at the entryway. “I believe things will go smoother if you clap him on the shoulder and see him on his way, John.”

“Right.” Logan stood up. “Will you come with me, Eve? We're not finished.”

“You bet we're not.” She followed him into the foyer and watched him with the doctor. Smooth as honey. Persuasive as Lucifer. It took only a few minutes for him to send the man happily on his way.

She stood in the doorway as he escorted the doctor to his car.

“He's good, huh?” Margaret murmured.

“Too good.” Suddenly the rage was gone, replaced by weariness. What the hell difference did it make? Let him weave all his little webs and plots. None of it concerned her any longer.

Logan waved at the doctor, and then turned back to face her. His gaze narrowed warily. “You're not angry anymore. That could be bad or good.”

“Or neither. Why should I get upset? It's all water under the bridge. I'm going upstairs to pack. It's over and I'm out of here.”

“It's not over.”

She stiffened. “The hell it's not.”

Margaret hurriedly said, “I think I'll go check on Gil,” and left them.

Logan's gaze never left Eve's face. He repeated, “It's not over, Eve.”

“I agreed to one job and one job only. Even if I weren't ready to cut your throat for putting me in the spot you did tonight, that job ended when I tossed that skull out of the limo. If you think I'm going to hang around here while you try to retrieve it, you're crazy.”

“I don't have to try to retrieve it.”

Her eyes widened. “What the hell do you mean?”

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

He turned and walked away from her.

NINE

The cemetery.

He was already past the wrought-iron gate when she caught up with him. He moved purposefully down the row of graves.

She didn't follow. “What are you doing?”

“Retrieving the skull.” He stopped before Randolph Barrett's grave, lifted the pallet of carnations, and moved it aside. He picked up the shovel that had been hidden beneath it and began to dig. The earth was soft, recently turned, and the task went quickly. “Since you called my hand, I have to supply you with a skull.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Are you completely crazy? Digging up any old corpse to—” She inhaled sharply as a sudden thought occurred to her. “Good God.”

He glanced up at her and answered her unspoken question. “Yes, I retrieved the skull from that cornfield two months ago.”

“And you buried it again here. That's why you covered all these graves with flowers. You wanted to erase any sign the grave had been disturbed.”

He nodded as he kept on digging. “There's an old saying that the best place to hide anything is in plain sight, but I admit I'm too anal to just leave it at that. I had Mark install an alarm that would go off if the box is touched, and I had him turn it off when I was in the house just now.”

“And you must have substituted another skull in that coffin in the cornfield.” She glanced at the name on the tombstone. “Was it Randolph Barrett's?”

“No, Barrett's only temporarily sharing his quarters. He died when he was sixty-four. I wanted a younger skull, so I bought one from a medical school in Germany.”

Her head was whirling. “Wait a minute. Why? Why have you gone to all this trouble?”

“I knew they'd tumble to what I was doing eventually and that I might need a diversion. I hoped I wouldn't have to use it. I tried every way I could not to tip my hand, but something must have gone wrong. You hadn't even started the project. Things were moving too fast and I had to throw them off the track.”

“What do you mean, moving too fast? I don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

“You don't have to know. It's safer for you if you don't.” He threw down his shovel, bent, and picked up the square lead box he'd uncovered. “All you have to do is the job I paid you for.”

“I don't have to know?” Shock reverberated through her as all the implications of his deception hit home. “Why, you son of a bitch.”

“Maybe.” He set the box aside and began shoveling the dirt back into the grave. “But it doesn't change anything.”

“It changes everything.” Her voice was shaking with anger. “You took me out there to that damn cornfield, knowing it was for nothing.”

“It wasn't for nothing. They knew you were on the job and I needed you there for window dressing to make the trip more convincing.”

“And almost got me killed.”

“Sorry. I cut it a little close.”

“Sorry? Is that all you've got to say? What about Gil Price? He was shot. He was trying to save that skull for you and it wasn't even the right one.”

“I hate to disappoint you. I know you want to pile all the guilt you can on my shoulders, but Gil knew exactly what he was doing. He arranged for the purchase of the skull for me.”

“He knew? I'm the only one who was left in the dark?”

“Yes.” He put the shovel down and drew the pallet of carnations over it and the grave. “I wouldn't have let him walk into something like that without warning him.”

“But you let me walk into it.”

“You were supposed to be a bystander. Gil was going to participate. I didn't know you'd be forced to—”

“Bystander.” She was growing more furious by the second. “You set me up. I wondered why you wanted me there, but I didn't think it was to use me as bait.”

“The skull was the bait. As I said, you were there to make it all credible. I needed to make sure that they'd think our trip had enough significance for them to follow us.”

“You wanted them to chase us. You wanted them to get close enough so there would be a valid excuse for shoving that coffin out the limo.”

He nodded. “They had to believe that only desperation would force me to give up the skull. I was planning on being the one to toss out the coffin, but then Gil was hurt and I had to drive.”

“And Gil told me to do it. Christ, you even argued with me.”

“I figured it was the quickest way to get you to do it. You were angry enough with me to do anything I didn't want you to do.”

“And you would have risked letting Gil and me die to fool them.”

“I was in that car too.”

“If you want to commit suicide, that's your business. You had no right to endanger anyone else.”

“I thought it was the only solution.”

“Solution? My God, you're so obsessed with your damn politics, you were willing to stage a charade that could have killed all of us.”

“I needed to buy you some time.”

“Well, then, you did it for nothing.” Her eyes blazed at him. “If you think I'd touch this job now, you're crazy. I'd like to strangle you and bury you here beside Randolph Barrett.” She whirled away from him. “No, I'd like to bury you somewhere no one would ever find you. You deserve it, you callous bastard.”

“Eve.”

She ignored him as she started down the hill.

“You have a perfect right to be angry with me, but there are things for you to consider. Will you let me clarify the situation so that you—”

She continued to ignore him and speeded up her pace. Manipulative son of a bitch. Crazy, conniving bastard.

She met Margaret on the stairs as she headed for her room. “Gil's asleep. I think—”

“Arrange a car and a flight for me,” she said curtly. “I'm out of here.”

“Oops. I gather John wasn't very persuasive.” She grimaced. “Can't say I blame you, but you really can trust John to—”

“Forget it. Make that flight the next one out.”

“I'll have to check with John.”

“Get me out of here or I'll walk to Atlanta.” She slammed the door of her room, flipped on the light, and moved toward the closet. She dragged her suitcase out, tossed it on the bed, and headed for the bureau.

“You do have to listen to me,” Logan said quietly from the doorway. “I know it's difficult to see things clearly when you're this upset, but I can't let you leave until you know what you're facing.”

“I'm not interested in anything you have to say.” She threw an armful of underthings into the suitcase. “Why should I? They'd probably be lies. Your credibility with me is the pits. You deceived me and you nearly got me killed.”

“But you weren't killed. Getting you killed is the last thing I want.”

She went back to the bureau and opened another drawer.

“Okay, let's explore the situation. You didn't think what I wanted you to do was dangerous enough to cause anyone serious problems. It seems you were wrong. They wanted the skull enough to kill for it. Therefore, they think it's as important as I do.”

She dumped the contents of the second drawer into the suitcase. “It's not Kennedy.”

“Then prove it to them. Prove it to both of us.”

“Screw you. I don't have to prove anything to anyone.”

“I'm afraid you do.”

She whirled to face him. “The hell I do.”

“You do if you want to keep alive.” He paused. “And keep your mother alive.”

She stiffened. “Are you threatening me?”

“Me? No way. I'm just telling you how it is. The situation's escalated to the point where you have only two options. Prove I'm right and let me go after the bastards with evidence. Prove me wrong and you can go to the media and get everyone off your back.” He looked directly into her eyes. “Because the alternative is to have them go after you and put you down. They won't care if Donnelli's story is true or not. They won't want to take the chance.”

“I can get police protection.”

“That might help for a while. But it's not a permanent solution.”

“I can have Joe drag your ass in for questioning. I can tell them everything.”

“And I'll find a way to walk out, smelling like a rose. That's what lawyers are for.” He added soberly, “I don't want to fight you, Eve. I want to keep you alive.”

“Bull. You want exactly what you've wanted from the beginning.”

“Yes, but one doesn't rule out the other. What happened at your lab was a warning, but what happened tonight showed they've pulled the gloves off.”

“Maybe.”

“Listen, think about it.” He studied her face and then shook his head. “I'm not getting through to you, am I? Okay, I didn't want to tell you, but other witnesses are already being eliminated. Three people have been killed in the last few days.”

“Witnesses?”

“My God, the case has been riddled with unexplained deaths since the assassination. You must have read about it.” He paused. “And now it's started again. That's why I wanted to cause a diversion tonight. I hoped the killing would stop if they had another focus.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I can give you the names and addresses of the victims. You can check with the local police. As God is my witness, I'm telling you the truth.”

She believed him. She wished she didn't because his words shook her. “There's no reason for anyone to hurt my mother.”

“Not if they can get at you. If they can't, they might decide to use her as a threat or an example like that cat in your lab.”

Blood. Her terror and horror at the first sight of the wreckage surged back. He had probably meant the reminder to do just that, but it wasn't necessary. The memory was vivid and knife-sharp and couldn't be pushed away. “You keep saying ‘they.' I'm tired of walking around in the dark. Who were those men following us tonight? Who's doing this?”

He didn't answer for a moment. “The man who's calling the shots right now is James Timwick. Do you recognize the name?”

She shook her head.

“He's very high in the Treasury Department.”

“And he was there tonight?”

“No, I'm not sure who those men were. They probably don't have any official status. Timwick wouldn't want any direct connection to him. In a conspiracy like this the fewer people who know, the safer he'd be. It would be much easier for him if he could use the full force of the government. But I'd bet they're hired guns.”

Hired guns. It sounded like something out of a bad western. “And who did that to my lab?”

“Gil says it could be Albert Fiske. He's worked for Timwick before.”

Fiske. That blood and horror now had a name. “I want Joe to know. He can track the bastard down.”

“Do you really want to involve Quinn before you have proof? Timwick is a heavyweight. With one phone call he could make your friend's life very difficult.” His voice lowered persuasively, “Go for that proof, Eve. Do your job. You'll make things easier for Quinn and safer for yourself.”

“And do what you want.”

“There's a downside to everything. But don't cut off your nose to spite your face . . . or me. You think I'm wrong. Wouldn't proving it punish me for all the problems I've forced on you?”

“Attempted murder can hardly be called a problem.”

“I've leveled with you. And I've warned you. It's your decision now.”

“It always has been.”

“Then make the right one.” He turned to leave. “It will take a little time to arrange security to take you home. I'll tell Margaret to make reservations for you on the afternoon flight out of Reagan National.”

“What if I want to leave now?”

He shook his head. “I've made you a target and I'm going to protect you as best I can. I'll also double the security surrounding your mother and the house in Atlanta.” He looked back at her. “Change your mind, Eve. Forget how angry you are at me and do what's best for you and your mother.”

The door closed behind him before she could answer. Hit and run. Manipulative bastard.

“Keep your mother alive.”

She tried to smother the panic rising inside her. He had cleverly chosen the words that would strike deepest. She should ignore everything he'd said and get the hell out of there. She'd never have come if she'd known it could lead to this. He'd deliberately deceived her and embroiled her in a situation that—

Slow down. Forget the fact that she wanted to wring Logan's neck. The situation existed. Now what could she do about it?

Prove me wrong.

Tempting bait. If she worked hard, in a couple days she could have the proof.

And give in to Logan after all the hell he'd put her through?

No way. Not if there was any other path she could take.

Do what's best for you and your mother.

She slowly moved to the window. It was beginning to get light. By afternoon she could be on her way home. God, how she wanted to be back where everything was safe and familiar.

But it might no longer be safe there. Just the decision to take Logan's job might have destroyed the peace and safety she'd so carefully cultivated through the years since Fraser's execution. She was being drawn back into that nightmarish quagmire in which she'd almost drowned after Bonnie died.

She would
not
drown. If she survived Bonnie's death, she could survive anything.

BARRETT HOUSE
TUESDAY AFTERNOON

Logan was standing in the foyer when she came down the stairs just after one o'clock.

A slow smile lit his face. “You don't have your suitcase.”

“It's still packed. I'm going to get out of here the minute I'm finished. But I decided that doing the job is the best way to cut all ties to this mess.” She moved down the hall toward the lab. “Where's the skull?”

“You're heading right toward it. The box is on your desk.” He followed her. “But don't you think you'd better get some sleep first?”

“I've already slept. I took a shower and a nap after I made my decision to get on with it.”

“You could have sent me word and relieved my mind.”

“I have no desire to relieve your mind.”

“I can see your point. But you're doing the intelligent thing.”

“If I didn't think that, I'd be heading for the front door instead of the lab.” She gave him a cool glance. “And let's be clear. The minute I prove that skull doesn't belong to Kennedy, I'm going to call the newspapers and let them know what an ass you are.”