Moving Target, page 31
part #9 of Ali Reynolds Series
“Move your vehicle,” Katerina repeated. “I have a helicopter to catch.”
“It’s not coming,” Ali said, hoping that was true. If Katerina had been playing both ends against the middle, she suspected Felix’s Auto Recycling was fully stocked with operatives on either side of the Cabrillo/Diaz line. Word of the DEA raid would have gotten back to her friend Alonzo. Surely he wouldn’t risk losing a helicopter.
“Of course it’s coming,” Katerina said. “Why wouldn’t it?”
“Because Alonzo Diaz knows you betrayed him—that you set up this meeting for the sole purpose of allowing the DEA to confiscate his aircraft,” Ali said.
“But I didn’t,” Katerina objected. “I wouldn’t do that. Ever. Besides, you’re not the DEA.”
“Believe me,” Ali said, “there will be plenty of proof to show you did,” Ali said. “As for your father? Ernesto will receive a flurry of e-mails containing a sampling of the documents that you and Jillian stole from his organization. He’ll also have copies of e-mails that spell out the mutually beneficial relationship you’ve established with his most dangerous competitor.”
Katerina’s olive skin paled in the harsh afternoon sun. “Those files don’t exist anymore,” she hissed. “Jillian told me they were gone, that we couldn’t get them back.”
“That’s because Jillian thought she knew how to use GHOST when she didn’t. I have it, I know how to use it, and I’m fully prepared to unleash it on you.”
Father McLaughlin appeared as if out of nowhere, rising up from the far shoulder of the frontage road and strolling into Ali’s line of vision, then disappearing at the back of the ambulance. Behind him came a second figure. It took Ali a moment to realize who it was: Detective Hernandez. How had he gotten here?
If there were any sounds as the back doors of the ambulance swung open or as Father McLaughlin and Detective Hernandez hefted the gurney out of the vehicle, they were masked by the roar of traffic speeding by on the freeway. Moments later, Ali caught a glimpse of the two men rolling the gurney to the far side of the road and out of immediate danger. They were followed by the spare, hurrying figure of Sister Anselm. Ali felt a moment of pure joy. She was winning. Four of the people in the line of fire were now in safety. Two remained: LeAnne Tucker and Ali.
Totally focused on her opponent, Katerina saw none of this. She had no idea she was losing. No matter what happened, based on numbers alone, she had lost and Ali had won.
“This is ridiculous,” Katerina said. “You can’t hurt me.”
“I won’t have to,” Ali said with a smile. “Once I send those e-mails, the men in your life—the remaining men in your life, since poor Howard is no longer with us—will join forces to take you down. One or the other of them will be able to get to you no matter where you are. More likely, they’ll hire someone to do it for them, just like you hired Marvin Cotton to set Lance on fire and burn down Lowell Dunn’s house. Being burned is a particularly tough way to go, by the way, but I’m sure there’s more than one firebug imprisoned in the state of Texas who will be happy to earn some extra cash on the side.”
Katerina’s weapon wavered slightly. Ali knew that she had landed a blow.
“If you tell them I’ve betrayed them, they’ll kill me,” she said. “Especially my father.”
“Yes,” Ali said. “I thought as much.”
“You don’t understand,” Katerina said. “He never wanted me. He wanted a son to carry on his name and his business. He had picked out someone for me to marry, someone he thought would be a suitable heir. When I refused, he threw me out.”
“And you’ve been trying to even the score ever since. Sorry, Katerina. Game’s over.”
“Why are you doing this?” Katerina asked. “What do you want? Is it money? I have plenty of money.”
“I want you to put down your weapon and turn yourself in. If you get yourself a good enough lawyer, maybe he can wrangle you a deal. That way, if you plead guilty to the three murders I already know you’re responsible for, maybe the state of Texas will agree to take the death penalty off the table. If you’re in prison for life without parole, I can live with that.”
“And if I don’t plead guilty?” Katerina asked.
“The e-mails I mentioned before get sent. They’ll go through GHOST. We’ll be able to manipulate them so they’ll look like they came directly from you. We’ll also be able to fix the time stamps.”
That was where the bluff came in. Ali wasn’t the least bit sure it was possible, but she understood that if she spoke the words with enough authority, they might seem feasible.
“Will those doctored e-mails stand up to legal scrutiny in a court of law?” Ali shrugged. “Who knows? Besides, it doesn’t really matter; they’re not going to law enforcement. They’re going to your father and to Alonzo Diaz. The cartels can afford to have some top-notch cyber folks on their payrolls, but based on everything I’ve seen so far, they don’t. Our GHOST-authored material will be accepted as gospel by what passes as cyber security for both cartels.”
“They won’t believe any of it,” Katerina declared. “They’ll figure out it’s all a lie.” She said the words, but Ali could see that the woman’s confidence was slipping. The tool she had planned to loose on others was being turned on her. Instead of giving her power, GHOST had transformed her into a target.
“The way I see it, Katerina,” Ali continued calmly, “is that you have two choices. You either lay down your weapon or take your shot, your choice. You may put a bullet through me, but I promise you this: If the state of Texas doesn’t find a way to execute you for your crimes, somebody else will do the job.”
Detective Hernandez reappeared on the passenger side of the ambulance. He carried a drawn weapon in one hand and a pair of cuffs in the other. “I believe it’s over, Mrs. Barnes,” he said. “You’re outnumbered and outgunned. Now drop your weapon and get on the ground.”
Katerina stiffened when she heard his voice. After a long pause, she dropped to the ground, but she didn’t relinquish her weapon. Instead, she swung it around and took a wild shot at Hernandez before rolling under the ambulance. She fired again. Bullets pinged off the ground where Hernandez had been standing, but he was no longer there. He had leaped onto the vehicle’s running board and clung there. Ali couldn’t tell if he was wounded or not. On the far side of the ambulance, LeAnne had bounded to relative safety in the driver’s seat.
As the scene unfolded, Ali knew she had mere moments before Katerina’s deadly weapon would be turned on her. She dropped to the ground, landing on her belly with the Kahr in hand. Over the years, she had spent days on the target range with her Glock, practicing and honing her skills, but range work was always done with a stationary target—a paper target. This was a live woman, a human being, who was armed, dangerous, and beyond desperate.
Holding her breath, Ali sighted down the barrel of the unfamiliar weapon. Katerina was on the ground. LeAnne and Hernandez had taken cover with the ambulance, leaving Ali a relatively clear shot.
Katerina was focused on Hernandez and firing blindly at him. Ali knew she needed to make her first shot be her last shot. Shooting through the chain-link fence left her at risk of being hit by shrapnel. She had to make sure that her aim was true. Taking one last steadying breath, Ali pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot was reverberating in her head when Ali heard Katerina scream. That was when she knew it was over.
She scrambled to her feet and pushed open the gate. The chain and the broken padlock scattered uselessly to the ground. By the time Ali reached the passenger side of the ambulance, Detective Hernandez was pocketing Katerina’s weapon, which had come spinning out from under the vehicle when the hollow point slammed into her arm.
“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “That was some shooting! Now cover me while I pull her out from under there.”
Hernandez grabbed one of Katerina’s kicking legs and pulled her toward them. Screaming in pain, the wounded woman cradled her mangled arm as she emerged. The hollow point had entered just below her elbow and exploded out the far side of her forearm.
Seeing the damage and the blood and knowing she was responsible for it, Ali went all wobbly. As the adrenaline rush left her, the quaking returned to her knees. She felt sick to her stomach. She turned away from Hernandez and staggered over to the side of the road, where she bent over and heaved into the weeds. It was only when the retching stopped that Ali heard the thump of helicopter blades. The craft came close, but it didn’t land. Instead, it circled far above as if trying to determine what had happened. Then it headed west, going back the way it had come.
When Ali returned to the ambulance, Sister Anselm and Detective Hernandez were tending to Katerina. While the detective kept them covered, Sister Anselm used his belt as a makeshift tourniquet around Katerina’s upper arm. Katerina was sobbing but no longer screaming as the departing helicopter passed overhead. She turned on Ali. “You said it wouldn’t come,” she said accusingly. “That’s what you said.”
“Too bad,” Ali told her. “I lied.”
What happened next was a form of controlled chaos. The ambulance that B. had summoned to pick up Lance arrived first and had to be diverted to take Katerina to the same ER where Thad and Phyllis had been dropped off a little earlier. B., driving Father McLaughlin’s Isuzu, arrived in time to see the two attendants, overseen by a hovering Sister Anselm, load a gurney into the back. Frantic, he raced forward and almost collapsed with relief when he caught sight of Ali standing on the far side of the ambulance.
“Who was that?” he asked, nodding toward the departing vehicle as it squawked once and the engine grumbled to life.
“Katerina,” Ali answered.
“What happened to her?” B. asked.
“I shot her,” Ali said simply. Then she leaned into his chest, breathing in the warmth of his body and reveling in the strength of his encircling arms.
“Are you okay?” he murmured into her hair.
“I am,” she said, “but I don’t think your plan of using me as High Noon’s media babe is going to work out very well. This one’s going to be a PR nightmare.”
“Screw the PR problems,” B. said. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”
At some point in the action, LeAnne had gone across the frontage road to look after Lance. Now she returned with Detective Hernandez at her heels. She went straight to B. and pulled him into a hug. “Richard and Father McLaughlin told me what you guys did. I can’t thank you enough.”
The first cops arrived in a cacophony of sirens. “The detectives will be here soon,” a uniformed deputy told Hernandez. “They’ve gone to get a warrant. They said that anyone who isn’t injured or in need of medical care should stick around to give statements.”
When the second ambulance arrived to collect Lance, LeAnne went with him. Everyone else stayed where they were. By the time the detectives started asking questions, Father McLaughlin had collected B.’s Kahr and stowed it, along with his own weapon, in the locked chest in the back of the Trooper. The weapon Ali had used would be taken into evidence and most likely lost to him. He was philosophical about it: “That’s all right. My kid brother runs a gun shop in Pecos. He can get me another one without any trouble.”
Three hours later, the statements were given and signed. Since lives had been threatened, the detective assured Ali that he doubted any charges would be forthcoming, but she should probably plan to stay around for the next several days, until all questions had been answered.
At last, B. and Ali set off to collect Connor from the San Leandro Inn and take him to the hospital to rejoin his family. They found Leland and the boy in the business center. Leland was working on an e-mail while Connor was caught up in a game of solitaire. Duke and Duchess, both on leashes, were tethered to the back of Leland’s chair.
Connor sprang to his feet when he caught sight of Ali. “Is my mom okay?” he asked.
“She’s fine. Your brothers are fine. Your grandmother is fine. Now, if you’ll give me a couple of minutes to change out of these clothes, we’ll take you to see them.”
“But where are they?”
“They’re at the hospital.”
“I thought you said they were okay.”
“They are. Lance still needs hospital care. Thad and your grandmother were taken there to be checked out. They probably won’t have to stay.”
“Come on, Connor,” Leland said. “Let’s go walk the dogs while Mrs. Reynolds changes her clothes.”
By the time they reached San Leandro Community Hospital, Phyllis and Thad had both been treated and released. Phyllis’s emotional reunion with her dogs in the parking lot was almost as touching as Connor’s waiting room reunion with his mother and Thad.
“We’ve been booted out of Lance’s room,” LeAnne explained. “Two detectives, Hopper and Harris, are in with him, probably asking him the same questions they asked me: about Lance’s relationship with Jillian and if he had ever mentioned that her name was really Serafina. They also asked if I had any idea why Jillian would have come to our house last night. They said her BMW was found parked three blocks away. It was loaded with packed suitcases, as if she was getting ready to leave town.”
“What did you say?” Ali asked.
“I told him I had no idea why she came there. I hadn’t seen her since Lance broke up with her early last year. Since Lance has been either in jail or the hospital this whole time, I can’t see how he’d know anything about her, either.”
Detective Hopper emerged unannounced from Lance’s room and looked around. “Well now,” he said, “now that Ms. Reynolds has finished playing Wyatt Earp in the shoot-out at the O.K. Corral, perhaps she’d care to enlighten us as to how she knew who our victim was before we did.”
“FR,” Ali said without hesitation.
“FR?” he asked.
“Facial recognition technology,” she replied. “Our company, High Noon Enterprises, uses it all the time.”
“You seem to know more about this case than seems reasonable for an innocent bystander,” Hopper said. “Tell me this. The M.E. says the autopsy revealed that Jillian Sosa, aka Serafina Miguel, was pregnant at the time of her death. Would you care to hazard a guess about who might be the father?”
“Maybe you should talk to Andrew Garfield,” B. suggested. “He would be a good place to start.”
It was only by chance that Thad Tucker was sitting on a waiting room chair that was behind and slightly to the side of Detective Hopper when that exchange took place. Because Ali was looking at the detective, Thad’s face was in the background. She saw the stricken look that crossed his face. In that instant, Ali knew.
Over the next few minutes, Hopper let LeAnne know that since her home was still an active crime scene, the family would have to stay someplace else until it was released. Eventually, the detectives left. B. was on the phone with the hotel, making additional room arrangements, when Thad Tucker stuffed his hands in his pockets and made for the door. “I’m going outside for a while,” he said. “I need some air.”
Ali followed him down the hall. Instead of going out through the lobby and into the parking lot, he slipped into a room that turned out to be a chapel. Ali paused for only a moment before following him inside. The chapel was tiny, with three wooden pews in the dimly lit room. Several votive candles set in colorful glass vases burned on a stone hearth in front of a small statue of the Virgin Mary.
Thad sat in the front pew, hunched over and sobbing. Ali slipped into the pew beside him. “How long had you and Jillian been dating?” she asked.
Thad turned his tearstained face in her direction. “How did you know?”
“I knew because Duke and Duchess didn’t bark,” she said. “If they had, they would have awakened the whole family. I realized when I saw your face in there that they didn’t bark because Jillian was someone they knew well.”
Thad bit his lip and nodded. “They knew her,” he said. “After Grandma went to bed at night, I’d leave the garage door open so Jillian could come in and out.”
“She spent the night?”
Thad swallowed and nodded. “Sometimes.”
“How often?”
“Often. Do you think I’m the father?”
“Do you?”
Thad nodded again. “Probably,” he said. “It was all her aunt,” he added. “She wanted Lance’s program. She’s the one who took Grandma the other day. When Lance gave them the program, Jillian talked her aunt into letting Grandma go. Then something went wrong with the program. Jillian came to the house to warn us that her aunt was upset. Somehow we ended up sitting in the backseat, necking. The next thing I knew, there was a woman standing in the garage. She had a gun pointed at us. She told me that I needed to go get my mother and grandmother and make them come down to the garage. If I didn’t, she would shoot Jillian. I did what she said. I got them both. I thought she’d let Jillian go. She didn’t. She pulled the trigger and Jillian was gone.”
Overcome, Thad stopped talking and sobbed some more. Recalling the terrible scene in the back of LeAnne’s Taurus, Ali understood why. She let him cry. At last he quieted.
“You’re not going to tell Lance about Jillian and me, are you?” he asked.
“No,” Ali said. “I’m not telling. You are. Did Detective Hopper ask you about any of this?”
“I told him I couldn’t sleep. That I was outside just walking around when Jillian and her aunt showed up. I didn’t want to say what was really going on.”
“This is a homicide investigation,” Ali said. “You have to. You can’t withhold material evidence.”
She paused, thinking about the white lie she had told about recognizing Jillian’s face without ever mentioning the damning video of Jillian with Everett Jackson.
Okay, you’re a hypocrite, Ali told herself. What else is new?
“Jillian was such a sweet girl,” Thad continued. “I can’t believe she’s gone. I can’t believe that awful woman killed her.”
