The Target (18 page)

He’d been called incredibly handsome by the tabloids. He’d also been called a lady killer. He smiled broadly. He believed both of those statements wholeheartedly.

“Senator? Mr. Dodds is here.”

Peter straightened his shoulders then turned away from the mirror, directing his gaze to Arthur. Arthur had been with him for years, ever since their days on the city council in Colorado Springs.

However, his trust only went so far. And what he and Mr. Dodds had to discuss was not a matter for Arthur to be involved in.

“Thank you, Arthur. Escort him in, please.”

“Of course. Do you also wish for Daniel to attend?”

Peter shook his head. “Actually, this is a private meeting. You can call it a night, Arthur.”

“But Senator—”

“And inform Daniel that I’m expecting Mr. Ramsey as well.”

Arthur finally nodded. “Very well. Good evening, Senator.”

Arthur closed the door quietly and Peter returned to his desk, waiting. Mr. Dodds knocked once then opened the door. His bulky frame filled the doorway and Peter motioned him inside.

“Dodds,” he greeted.

“Pete. Good to see you.” He reached out, shaking Peter’s hand with enthusiasm. “Ramsey should be here within the hour.”

“Good.” Peter sat down and motioned for Dodds to do the same. “Has it been taken care of?”

“I don’t have confirmation. But that was the plan. It’ll take him a number of days to return.”

Peter nodded. “So we’ll assume it’s handled?”

“Yes. Now we just have to decide how to proceed. There has to be enough remorse over her death so that moderates are appeased. And if we’re lucky, we might even draw in some liberals who are appalled that your lesbian daughter was killed.”

“Of course, we don’t want to piss off our base. If I show too much remorse, conservatives might get the idea that I approved of her lifestyle.”

“Perhaps we can use that. You loved your daughter but God saw fit to end her life.”

“As punishment,” Peter said, nodding. “That could be good.”

Dodds laughed. “If you use that line, there go any liberals you may have pulled on board.”

“We don’t need them to win. Our Christian base is sound. Moderates will join us.” He grinned. “And I’ve always enjoyed strong female support.”

“Well then, let’s discuss the FBI. Eventually, your daughter’s body will be found. There will be an investigation. I don’t anticipate them finding anything out there. He’s a professional. Besides, there’s hundreds of thousands of acres for them to search. He’ll be long gone.”

“And the money won’t be traced?”

“After confirmation of her death, the money will be transferred to an offshore account. He will already have left the country. We won’t hear from him again.”

A sound startled them and they both turned, finding wide eyes staring at them. Joyce Michaels stumbled into the room.

“Sara?” She brought a hand to her chest. “My God, you’re talking about Sara? About killing
Sara
?”

Peter stood. “Joyce? What are you doing? How long have you been there?”

“Are you
insane
?” she said, spitting out the words. “She’s our daughter!” she screamed.

“Joyce, please,” Dodds said, walking to her. “Think about it. We’ll never win the presidency as long as you have a lesbian daughter. It goes against everything we’ve preached all these years.”

“I wasn’t aware that
we
were running for the presidency, Mr.

Dodds.” She took a step back, looking at Peter. “I can’t believe you’re even talking about this. It’s not okay to have a lesbian daughter but it is okay to condone murder?” She pointed at Dodds. “It’s okay for the founder of the Family Values Association to hire someone to kill our daughter?” she yelled. “I won’t let you get away with this.”

“Joyce, listen to me,” Peter said, walking closer. “It’s the only way. We’ve worked too hard all these years to let it slip away just because of her.”

“You can’t even say her name, can you?” Joyce pulled away from his touch. “She’s our daughter, for God’s sake. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

His laughter rang out, his eyes cold as he looked at her. He shook his head. “She’s no daughter of mine. If she was, she would have embraced what I stand for. Instead, she’s gone against me every step of the way.” He walked closer, his height dwarfing that of his wife. “And we both know why, don’t we Joyce?” He glanced once at Dodds, then back to his wife. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out about your little affair all those years ago?”

She gasped, her eyes darting around the room as she took a step backward. She felt his desk hit the back of her thighs and stopped.

“What … what do you mean?”

“What I mean, my dear wife, is that I know she’s not my daughter.”

“But Peter, of course she is.”

He walked away with only a shrug. “Spare me the lies, Joyce. Do you think a man in my position goes blindly into marriage? Do you think all these years I’ve let you have free rein?” He shook his head. “No. Of course not. So all those years ago, after we’d only been married a year at most, did you really think I didn’t know about the man you were seeing? About the man who impregnated you?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide. “No. No, Peter. You’ve got it wrong.”

“Do I?” His eyes narrowed. “Such a tragedy, his accident. And he was so young. Shame.”

She gasped then looked down, unable to meet his eyes. But her voice was quivering when she spoke. “I beg you, Peter. You’ve raised her as your daughter. You can’t possibly be involved in a plot to kill her.”

“She’s only an obstacle to me, Joyce. An obstacle. She means nothing to me.”

“My God, you’re such a hypocrite. You preach Christian values, yet you’ve both turned to murder. Murderers!
Thou shall not kill
. Since when does that not apply to you?”

Peter smiled. “It’s not like I was the one who pulled the trigger, Joyce.”

Her eyes widened again. “It’s … it’s already been done?” she whispered.

Dodds nodded.

She screamed, sinking down to her knees, her arms flailing wildly. “How could you? How
could
you? You won’t get away with this,” she screamed. “You won’t get away with this!”

The outer door opened and Ramsey walked in, closing it quickly behind him. “What’s going on in here?”

“Unexpected complication,” Dodds said, motioning to Joyce Michaels. “Please take care of it.”

“Of course.”

“Who are you? Get away from me,” Joyce said, trying to stand as she slapped at the hands that grabbed her. “Help! Somebody help me!”

A strong hand clamped over her mouth and the only sound was that of the electric charge as the stun gun touched her neck.

Within seconds, her limp body slid to the floor. All three men stared at her.

“She could be a problem,” Dodds said.

Peter shook his head. “No. Once it’s all over with, she’ll be fine.” He shrugged. “If not, we’ll just keep her drugged, won’t we?”

“Perhaps the rumors of alcoholism might turn out to be helpful after all. She was so distraught by her daughter’s death that she turned to drugs.” He smiled. “I have a doctor at my disposal. We might even be able to get her committed this time.”

Peter nodded. “Could conjure up some sympathy votes.” He turned away from his wife. “Ramsey, take her to her quarters. Watch her.”

“I’ll call Dr. Hammond. Have him give her a sedative.”

“Then we need to discuss the FBI issues. Ramsey? I assume you have updates?”

“Yes, sir. It’s going as planned.”

“Good.” He motioned to his wife. “Let’s get this handled then we’ll meet.”

“Can she make it to St. Elmo?”

The quiet words hung in the air and all eyes slid to Jaime. One by one, Jaime looked at them, seeing their expressions in the soft light of the campfire. Most of the gazes were the same, swimming in worry and doubt. Behind them, in the tent, Megan lay asleep, her body warm as the infection tried to take over. They had cleaned her wound again and redressed it. And the bleeding was again stopped. For now.

“The trip tomorrow will be easy. No climbing. Once we get there, if we’re lucky, some of the summer residents might still be around. Or the general store might be open.”

“I thought it was a ghost town.”

“It is. But some of the old cabins have been restored and people live there in the summer. From what I remember, the general store rented Jeeps. But tourist season is over, so there may not be anyone around. Especially on a weekday.”

“But we might find a phone?” Abby asked hopefully.

“Yes. And we might find something for Megan. Penicillin, pain pills, something.”

Sara reached out to the fire, warming her hands. “If we can make it through tomorrow, make it to St. Elmo, then we should be okay.”

“Well, I for one, am ready to see civilization again,” Lou Ann said.

“And maybe we don’t have to worry about that guy,” Ashley said quietly. “I mean, maybe we lost him.”

Jaime and Sara exchanged glances.

“We may have. But to be sure, I don’t think we should assume that,” Jaime said. “It’s better to plan as if he’s on our trail. That way, we’ll be prepared.” She looked up into the dark sky, seeing the multitude of stars sparkling overhead. No moon. At least he wasn’t traveling. But she had no doubt he was still on their trail.

“So, if people live there, that means there’s a road, right?”

Jaime smiled at Abby, nodding. “There are two dirt roads. One is a rough Jeep road that goes over Tin Cup Pass. The other goes down the mountain, toward Nathrop. That’s the better of the two roads and obviously, Nathrop is a town with amenities, including a doctor. The problem being, it’s probably twenty miles or more. So if we can’t find a vehicle, we’re closer to Tin Cup, over the pass, than Nathrop.”

“Does Tin Cup have a doctor?”

“No. But they have year-round residents.”

“Well, let’s just hope we find someone in St. Elmo.”

Captain Morris tapped his fingers impatiently as the phone continued to ring. He glanced up at Simon, motioning to the FBI.

“They’re both on the phone.”

He nodded then heard the breathless voice on the other end.

“Jake McCoy.”

He cleared his throat. “Detective McCoy? This is Captain Morris, Denver PD. Homicide.”

He hovered over the fire, nearly too exhausted—and too cold—

to eat. The bitches had taken a route nearly straight up the mountain, following a small chute in the wall facing. He’d tried to follow them, but soon realized he would never make it. It set him back at least a couple of hours as he backtracked to the stream and picked up their original route. It pleased him somewhat when he saw the blood. At least he’d gotten one of them. It would slow them down, if nothing else. But still, they had a good eight hours on him now.

And if he couldn’t find their trail tomorrow, it was as good as over.

“Goddamn bitches,” he murmured as he held his hands to the fire. He looked at his useless cell phone, the battery long dead.

Sara rolled out her sleeping bag then did the same with Jaime’s.

She heard the others as they all talked quietly in their own tents.

Surprisingly, panic had not set in. And even more unbelievably neither had exhaustion. Oh, they were plenty tired but no doubt running on adrenaline. She only hoped the crash wasn’t too severe when it finally happened.

“Hey. Ready for me?”

Sara scooted away from the door, making room for Jaime.

“How is she?”

“Still sleeping. The fever doesn’t seem to be getting worse. Maybe the ibuprofen has helped some. But it’s swelling bad. The bullet wound is just through her fleshy part at her waist, so I doubt it nicked something inside. The swelling might just be because we can’t get the bleeding stopped, not when she had to climb like we did today.”

“How much longer do you think she can go without a doctor?”

“If we didn’t have to travel, if we had something for the infection, maybe a couple of days. But she’s strong.” The small flashlight Jaime held showed their breath as it frosted around them.

“It’s colder than last night.”

Sara pulled off her boots, left her socks on and quickly crawled into her sleeping bag. “I agree with Lou Ann. I’m ready for civilization.”

“Don’t mind saying, I am too,” Jaime murmured as she unlaced her boots. “A hot shower. A warm, soft bed.”

“Mmm.” Sara closed her eyes, listening as Jaime shed her jeans and replaced them with sweats.

“Mmm?” Jaime slid into her own sleeping bag and turned to face Sara. “Want to talk about it?”

Sara’s eyes opened. “Talk about what?”

“You’ve been very quiet today. Distant.” Jaime reached over, finding Sara’s hand in the darkness. “Has it finally caught up with you?” Jaime asked gently.

Sara sighed and closed her eyes again. “First Sandra—which seems like a lifetime ago, not a couple of days—and now Megan. And the rest of them, they’re acting like it’s nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lou Ann said it would be the greatest adventure any of them ever went on.” Sara cleared her throat. “Providing they live, of course.” Sara shifted. “I mean, she was acting like Sandra’s death was acceptable. She said Sandra was happy at the end and she didn’t even know what hit her. But Jaime, Sandra’s
dead
,” she whispered.

“Do they think this is a movie or something?”

“I think they’re just all trying to cope in their own way. Ashley is the most upset over Megan because they are buddies. Celia is the most upset over Sandra for the same reason. The others, well, they’re probably just trying to survive, mentally and physically.”

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling of the tent. “Think about it, Sara. They’ve known you for ten, eleven weeks now. Same with each other. There may be some attachments with the women they’ve met, but mostly, they’re scared about what hap- pened to Sandra, afraid it might happen to them. Of course they feel some sort of remorse over losing someone they knew, but it wasn’t like they were lifelong friends. Right now, they’re just trying to make it out of here alive. And it has to be frightening to them to put their trust in you, someone they’ve known a few months, and me who they’ve known less than two weeks.”