40 Souls to Keep, page 27
“Turn right on Pine Road,” GPS lady said.
Like a good little boy, Lucas turned right.
* * *
Palmetto Drive arced like a half-moon, bisecting shorter, perpendicular streets, forming pie-shaped lots that Lucas imagined went over well with house hunters. Even if the structures were packed together on the street side, the spacious backyards offered something a bit different than the standard rectangular slice of homeowner heaven. But imaginings weren’t reality. For Sale signs dotted the scrubby lawns as they did everywhere these days.
Lucas pulled the Jetta to the side of the road behind an SUV, and Jase’s fingers, which had taken up a nervous tapping on his thigh, stilled. “Is this the place?”
“No, it should be a few houses up. I didn’t want to pull right up front.” Stay invisible as long as possible; that was prudent planning. It wasn’t as though they had a slew of other weapons at their disposal. Even Jase’s power of persuasion would be useless. Plus Swift had a gun. Lucas hadn’t forgotten that part.
The inevitability of Jase’s mission pulled at Lucas like a vicious riptide. Today, soon, his gut told him, Macy would almost die and Jase would save her. Maybe.
“Rain moving in,” Jase said softly, glancing up through the windshield as his fingers danced over the bruise on the back of his head.
To stall, Lucas followed his gaze. The morning’s brilliant sunshine had begun to turn dappled as tendrils of gray clouds moved in. “I could do without the symbolism.”
Parked up the street as they were, Lucas couldn’t see 844 Palmetto, and he was both curious and reticent to do so. Seeing Macy’s home would be painful. Lucas had no ability to distance himself from the people who’d lived there. They were no longer faceless, part of a crowd. Macy had brought humanity into the mix, stirred his empathy, when often, he simply had little to give. Too many people needed him, and the well wasn’t bottomless. The world was numb with suffering; Macy was right.
He glanced sideways. Jase was the picture of calm. Even the nervous tapping had stopped. He must have felt how things were twisting to the end as keenly as Lucas did, yet his face was unlined. Untroubled. No matter the stakes, he believed that whatever happened would be exactly what was meant to happen. Jase didn’t put stock in wildcards.
Lucas, on the other hand, lived his life by them.
His deep sigh caught Jase’s attention, and he reached over the console to squeeze Lucas’s arm. “Stay here.”
What the hell? Seriously? “You can’t expect me to do that.” He was proud of his response, considering the rage that had boiled up at the command. The urge to hurt the other man was as deep as the primal attraction Lucas had been feeling since they met. “I’m going in.”
“You’re going in.” Jase’s face quirked into a sad smile. “Okay, Lucas.”
Lucas bit back his sarcastic response. Why had Jase done that? Put anger and resentment between them when they needed the exact opposite. Lucas gripped the steering wheel, trying to bring his reeling emotions under control.
They were wasting time.
“We need to go,” he said, reaching for the door handle.
Lightning quick, Jase grabbed his arm, and Lucas tensed, ready to fight, hating that it had come to this, but Jase surprised him again, as if his only goal in life was to keep Lucas off guard. “Don’t be angry. I had to say it.”
“The hell you did.”
“This is my task.”
Lucas jerked his arm away. “Spare me the mystical bullshit.”
“That mystical bullshit has taken us this far.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Lucas muttered, and he didn’t. He’d never hated anything more. “I have a responsibility to that girl that has nothing to do with you. So let’s stop playing games and get moving.”
Finally Jase’s calm showed signs of unraveling. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t think I could take that.” He closed his eyes. “I couldn’t take that.”
And I don’t want you to bugger off to God knows where when the wizard behind the curtain gives you your memories back, so cope and deal. After all, Lucas was managing—ignoring his tight chest and the frantic desire to beg Jase to stay—so it seemed only fair the heartache got passed around. “I’ll be fine,” he offered lamely.
“You always say that.”
Lucas turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. “It’s always true.” Take that, fate.
He turned willingly when Jase caught him in a clumsy embrace and opened his mouth to the kiss, telling himself it was passion and not desperation he felt in the ungentle exchange of lips and tongue. “Be careful,” Jase whispered against his mouth, kissing him again when Lucas tried to get closer without actually climbing over the console.
“You too,” Lucas said. But he didn’t let go, and neither had Jase. At this rate, they’d get around to saving Macy by nightfall. Jase twisted in his seat, leaning forward until they were as close as possible in the cramped space, and kissed him again. This time, Lucas did taste desperation.
No. He refused to let that be the last emotion between them.
“We have to go,” he said, shoving at Jase’s chest. With their goodbyes behind them, every second that ticked by put Lucas further on edge.
“I know.” Jase opened his mouth, then thought better of whatever he’d been ready to say. He pulled the door handle and stepped out just as a soft rain began to patter onto the pavement.
An omen? Lucas wouldn’t put it past whatever power was pulling the strings on this crazy puppet show. Fate was such a drama queen. Turning the collar on his shirt up against the lazy drips, he joined Jase on the sidewalk. “Do we have a plan?”
“Would it freak you out if I said no?” Jase peered up the street. He didn’t brush at the water falling against his face.
Yes. “No, it’s fine.”
Clearly, his tone wasn’t as neutral as he’d hoped. Jase flashed a sardonic smile at the sidewalk. “Do you have a plan?”
Touché. “Go in guns blazing,” Lucas said. Swift deserved a lack of subtlety. The idea of kicking down the front door and gunning down the bad guy appealed to the romantic in him. “You be Butch and I’ll be the Sundance Kid.”
“You remember how that movie ended, don’t you?”
“They go to Bolivia and live happily ever after.”
Jase’s expression softened. At least Lucas could still manage to ease his mind.
They were arguing the fine points of attack—or stealth, depending on who was leading the conversation—when a silver Camry gliding around the bend caught Lucas’s eye. “Son of a bitch.” He put a restraining hand on Jase’s arm when he turned, aware that Martinez’s arrival could be either good or bad, although all signs pointed to bad, considering how tightly Swift had her pressed under his thumb. Jase, however, perked up and dared to look pleased.
Martinez coasted to a stop behind the Jetta and got out to join them on the sidewalk. No uniform for her today, and no skimpy nightshirt either. Her long, curly hair was tied back in a sloppy ponytail, as if she’d pulled it up without the aid of a brush or mirror, and her wardrobe had been chosen with an equal lack of care—jeans ripped along one knee and a paint-splattered T-shirt. A lightweight leather jacket completed the ensemble. Hardly the picture of professional law enforcement.
“This is a surprise,” Jase said.
“Yeah, well here’s the thing, Jacobson’s friend—sorry, I don’t remember your name. After this asshole hung up on me, I kept wondering why the sudden interest in Pearl’s old address. Weird thing was, every time I started thinking about it, my mind would veer off to something else, like I couldn’t focus.” She shifted her weight, which was when Lucas noticed she was packing; the glint of a gun in a shoulder holster flashed beneath her jacket.
“And what did you make of that?” Jase asked, as though they were discussing the symphony over fish eggs and hundred-dollar martinis. He shushed Lucas when he started to speak.
“Something really weird is going on,” Martinez snapped. “That’s what I made of that. And then...”
Jase waited out the long pause with the patience of a saint, while Lucas threw nervous glances up the street toward number 844. Not that he wasn’t enjoying Martinez work out that she’d been a bitch about the address thing, but he was willing to gloat at a later date.
“What I didn’t get,” Martinez continued, “was why talking to Jacobson felt wrong. I mean, he was so good with the kid.” Her eyes shifted to Lucas. “I remember feeling like you were the first person I’d met from CPS who belonged there, like it was your destiny or something.”
“Don’t say that,” Lucas blurted.
“I tried to call you back, but the nurse who picked up the phone said you’d already been discharged.” She cocked her head, ponytail going flatter every second in the misting rain. “I see you found the place anyway.”
They had, and while the idea of a gun on their side of the equation gave Lucas a boost, he didn’t relish the idea of Swift telling her to turn it on them, or Martinez obeying with a smile. With his luck, she was holding a subconscious grudge about the empty gas tank thing. The way Jase was shaking his head, he’d come to that conclusion five minutes ago. “I’m sorry. We have to do this alone.”
She blinked rapidly, face screwing up in a rebellious expression, then shook her head. “No.”
Lucas grinned, turning to share his glee with Jase. Bet he hadn’t seen that coming. Looked like this town was full of people who could give Jase the proverbial finger. Okay, two didn’t equate to “full,” but it was still more than he’d ever met before. Maybe there was something in the water that wouldn’t bite your arm off.
“Carla, no,” Jase said, spinning Lucas back to dismay. “It isn’t safe in there.”
Jase didn’t know this woman at all, did he? As Lucas expected, Martinez drew herself up to her full five feet one inch and glared. “I’m a police officer. I’m trained to handle these kinds of things.”
Not these kinds of things. Lucas threw another glance down the street. By his calculations, the Pearl house should be right around the bend in the road. Out of sight for now, but the longer they took to get moving, the greater the possibility of attracting attention.
“This man can manipulate your thoughts with a word,” Jase said, not pulling any punches. “You know that, right? Because he’s done it already. He could tell you to shoot us, or yourself, and you’d do it with a smile on your face.”
Jase could do that too, if he wanted. Funny that Lucas had pictured all sorts of scenarios where Jase’s power would prove useful, but that one thing hadn’t occurred to him. If a rational person followed that line of thought, Jase could hypothetically instruct Martinez to shoot Swift, and she’d perform the task with enthusiasm, never understanding why she’d taken a life. How long would the question haunt her? Forever? Lucas began to understand where the headwaters of Jase’s self-disgust sprang from.
“He can do that? What kind of a monster is he?” Martinez whispered, and Lucas cringed, but Jase absorbed the statement with no reaction.
Still waters. Jase acted as though the person he’d been seven years ago was completely different from the one he was today, but how many people could have endured what he had? Jase hadn’t been selected at random. Lucas had suspected that for a while, but now he was sure. Very few could claim his strength of spirit.
“He can do that,” Jase told Martinez. “So if you come with us, I need you to stay out of sight. You can’t let him see you.”
“Will that really make a difference?” Lucas asked.
“Yes. If Swift isn’t aware she’s there, he won’t be focused on confusing or directing her.”
“But what about Jacobson?” Martinez asked. At Jase’s blank stare, she added, “Won’t Swift do the same thing to Jacobson?”
“Lucas is immune to ou—his influence.”
Martinez’s eyes narrowed at Lucas. “Isn’t that a nifty trick?”
“Got it in a box of Wheaties,” Lucas said, inspecting his fingernails.
She snapped her gum. “I took you more for the secret-spy-decoder-ring kind of guy.”
Lucas shook his head. “You have to buy Frosted Flakes for a decoder ring. Do you know how much sugar there is in one bowl of Frosted Flakes?”
“Do you know how pathetic it is that you do?” Martinez rolled her shoulders, addressing Jase. “I’m going.”
The mist grew into a gentle rain, and a trickle of water penetrated Lucas’s shirt, zigzagging down his back. Jase looked back and forth between them, then started up the sidewalk without a word.
They rounded the bend three abreast and there it was, the white plastic numbers like a beacon on the mailbox: 844. With the generous summer rains the yard was lush...rainforest lush. The peach stucco exterior and white-slatted hurricane shutters made the house look like a Mayan temple emerging from the jungle. One of the Pearls had been an amateur landscaper. The front yard boasted a crisscross of elevated planting beds, hemmed in with railroad ties. Had it been maintained, it would have made the lot unique. Left to expand on its own, it left too many hiding places for Lucas’s taste. A sheriff’s sale poster had been pasted over the faded Sunshine Realty sign in the yard.
Jase paused in the driveway, then took Martinez’s arm in his. He pointed Lucas to one side of the house. “I’ll take Carla and circle around from this way. We’re in luck. The hurricane shutters are closed.”
Lucas had been thinking the same thing. The Pearls must have put them up before they’d left. Inside the house would look and feel like a cave and give them little light to work with, but at least Swift wouldn’t see them coming. There had to be a means of entry somewhere—around the back made the most sense. He nodded, matching Jase’s steady gaze before edging around the right side of the house. Jase and Martinez circumnavigated the front yard and started up the opposite side.
Lucas’s wall angled out, creeping closer to the property line the farther back he trudged. The few windows that dotted the wall were sealed tight. Still, he ducked under them as he passed. The house was larger than it had looked from the street, not unlike the abandoned house the Pearls had settled in. He reached the end and peered around the side just as Jase did the same on the other end. They exchanged a brief wave.
Taking a deep breath, Lucas edged around the corner, straining for a glimpse of the back of the house, and came upon a stucco wall. Eight feet tall, it connected the two wings across the back, creating a private courtyard, which Lucas bet was visible from every room. Ignoring Jase’s frantic wave to pull back, he sneaked forward until he came to the aluminum gate that led inside.
He’d been right about the courtyard. Even left to disrepair and the elements, it was beautiful, filled with fruit trees, a flower garden and a stone fountain. The storm shutters were intact along the wings, but the large panel that was meant to cover one set of glass sliders had been unscrewed and set aside. Lucas squinted but saw nothing but inky blackness.
Now what? Getting close would be like running the gauntlet. There was no telling where Swift was hiding. The bastard could be watching Lucas right now. He ducked back, starting when he saw that Jase and Martinez had crept forward along their section of the courtyard’s wall. They stared at each other across the gate. “This is going to suck,” Lucas announced.
“We knew it wasn’t going to be easy,” Jase said in a loud whisper. He unlatched the gate, taking his time with the squeaky latch. “I’ll go first and try to get up against the back wall. Even if he’s standing right at the glass, he won’t be able to see from that angle.”
Lucas vetoed that idea. “I’ll go first,” he said, stabbing at his chest. “You need to stay alive for Macy. Let me be the rat in the maze.”
Judging from Jase’s horrified expression, Lucas might have offered to shoot himself with Martinez’s gun. “No. I’m going.”
“Mother of God. Move!” Martinez either wowed Jase with her eloquence or stomped on his foot—Lucas put money on the second option, considering Jase’s choked cry and the way he doubled over. Martinez swung the gate open and raced inside.
Lucas grabbed for her and missed.
Inside the courtyard, a patchwork of concrete squares and mulched beds created a brown-and-white checkerboard. Orange and grapefruit trees dotted the beds, wreathed by wilted pansies. Near the kitchen, a line of dying tomato plants framed an herb garden overrun with mint. A pink wagon off to the side held brightly colored gardening tools, and as Martinez sidestepped it, diving for cover along the wall, she brushed its wheel. Momentum carried it a few feet before it squeaked to a stop.
Lucas held his breath. Martinez stood flat against the wall, chest heaving. Calm down, Lucas thought, and she did, giving one last silent sigh before going still.
Nothing moved in the murky depths beyond the glass doors. Martinez reached under her jacket and unholstered her gun, then eased up and around the doorframe. After a few seconds, she gestured to Lucas. He moved before thinking twice; lingering would give the nervousness time to take hold.
He dodged the wagon, but nearly tripped over a rake hidden under the mint. Martinez caught his arm before he crashed into the side of the house. A moment later, Jase was beside him. Everyone accounted for. Now what?
Jase bent down, coming up with one of the fist-sized rocks that edged the herb garden, and Lucas’s heart hammered into his throat. They were about to lose their element of surprise. “Ready?” Jase asked.
“Wait.” Martinez dug in her pocket and came up with something far more useful than a rock. Lucas pointed at the silver key.
“Is that to here?” He jerked a thumb to the house at their backs.
With a nod, Martinez handed it to Jase, who examined it, the reached to fit it quietly into the lock.
“Where’d you get it?” Lucas whispered. Slowly, Jase spun the key clockwise.
Like a good little boy, Lucas turned right.
* * *
Palmetto Drive arced like a half-moon, bisecting shorter, perpendicular streets, forming pie-shaped lots that Lucas imagined went over well with house hunters. Even if the structures were packed together on the street side, the spacious backyards offered something a bit different than the standard rectangular slice of homeowner heaven. But imaginings weren’t reality. For Sale signs dotted the scrubby lawns as they did everywhere these days.
Lucas pulled the Jetta to the side of the road behind an SUV, and Jase’s fingers, which had taken up a nervous tapping on his thigh, stilled. “Is this the place?”
“No, it should be a few houses up. I didn’t want to pull right up front.” Stay invisible as long as possible; that was prudent planning. It wasn’t as though they had a slew of other weapons at their disposal. Even Jase’s power of persuasion would be useless. Plus Swift had a gun. Lucas hadn’t forgotten that part.
The inevitability of Jase’s mission pulled at Lucas like a vicious riptide. Today, soon, his gut told him, Macy would almost die and Jase would save her. Maybe.
“Rain moving in,” Jase said softly, glancing up through the windshield as his fingers danced over the bruise on the back of his head.
To stall, Lucas followed his gaze. The morning’s brilliant sunshine had begun to turn dappled as tendrils of gray clouds moved in. “I could do without the symbolism.”
Parked up the street as they were, Lucas couldn’t see 844 Palmetto, and he was both curious and reticent to do so. Seeing Macy’s home would be painful. Lucas had no ability to distance himself from the people who’d lived there. They were no longer faceless, part of a crowd. Macy had brought humanity into the mix, stirred his empathy, when often, he simply had little to give. Too many people needed him, and the well wasn’t bottomless. The world was numb with suffering; Macy was right.
He glanced sideways. Jase was the picture of calm. Even the nervous tapping had stopped. He must have felt how things were twisting to the end as keenly as Lucas did, yet his face was unlined. Untroubled. No matter the stakes, he believed that whatever happened would be exactly what was meant to happen. Jase didn’t put stock in wildcards.
Lucas, on the other hand, lived his life by them.
His deep sigh caught Jase’s attention, and he reached over the console to squeeze Lucas’s arm. “Stay here.”
What the hell? Seriously? “You can’t expect me to do that.” He was proud of his response, considering the rage that had boiled up at the command. The urge to hurt the other man was as deep as the primal attraction Lucas had been feeling since they met. “I’m going in.”
“You’re going in.” Jase’s face quirked into a sad smile. “Okay, Lucas.”
Lucas bit back his sarcastic response. Why had Jase done that? Put anger and resentment between them when they needed the exact opposite. Lucas gripped the steering wheel, trying to bring his reeling emotions under control.
They were wasting time.
“We need to go,” he said, reaching for the door handle.
Lightning quick, Jase grabbed his arm, and Lucas tensed, ready to fight, hating that it had come to this, but Jase surprised him again, as if his only goal in life was to keep Lucas off guard. “Don’t be angry. I had to say it.”
“The hell you did.”
“This is my task.”
Lucas jerked his arm away. “Spare me the mystical bullshit.”
“That mystical bullshit has taken us this far.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Lucas muttered, and he didn’t. He’d never hated anything more. “I have a responsibility to that girl that has nothing to do with you. So let’s stop playing games and get moving.”
Finally Jase’s calm showed signs of unraveling. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t think I could take that.” He closed his eyes. “I couldn’t take that.”
And I don’t want you to bugger off to God knows where when the wizard behind the curtain gives you your memories back, so cope and deal. After all, Lucas was managing—ignoring his tight chest and the frantic desire to beg Jase to stay—so it seemed only fair the heartache got passed around. “I’ll be fine,” he offered lamely.
“You always say that.”
Lucas turned off the engine and pocketed the keys. “It’s always true.” Take that, fate.
He turned willingly when Jase caught him in a clumsy embrace and opened his mouth to the kiss, telling himself it was passion and not desperation he felt in the ungentle exchange of lips and tongue. “Be careful,” Jase whispered against his mouth, kissing him again when Lucas tried to get closer without actually climbing over the console.
“You too,” Lucas said. But he didn’t let go, and neither had Jase. At this rate, they’d get around to saving Macy by nightfall. Jase twisted in his seat, leaning forward until they were as close as possible in the cramped space, and kissed him again. This time, Lucas did taste desperation.
No. He refused to let that be the last emotion between them.
“We have to go,” he said, shoving at Jase’s chest. With their goodbyes behind them, every second that ticked by put Lucas further on edge.
“I know.” Jase opened his mouth, then thought better of whatever he’d been ready to say. He pulled the door handle and stepped out just as a soft rain began to patter onto the pavement.
An omen? Lucas wouldn’t put it past whatever power was pulling the strings on this crazy puppet show. Fate was such a drama queen. Turning the collar on his shirt up against the lazy drips, he joined Jase on the sidewalk. “Do we have a plan?”
“Would it freak you out if I said no?” Jase peered up the street. He didn’t brush at the water falling against his face.
Yes. “No, it’s fine.”
Clearly, his tone wasn’t as neutral as he’d hoped. Jase flashed a sardonic smile at the sidewalk. “Do you have a plan?”
Touché. “Go in guns blazing,” Lucas said. Swift deserved a lack of subtlety. The idea of kicking down the front door and gunning down the bad guy appealed to the romantic in him. “You be Butch and I’ll be the Sundance Kid.”
“You remember how that movie ended, don’t you?”
“They go to Bolivia and live happily ever after.”
Jase’s expression softened. At least Lucas could still manage to ease his mind.
They were arguing the fine points of attack—or stealth, depending on who was leading the conversation—when a silver Camry gliding around the bend caught Lucas’s eye. “Son of a bitch.” He put a restraining hand on Jase’s arm when he turned, aware that Martinez’s arrival could be either good or bad, although all signs pointed to bad, considering how tightly Swift had her pressed under his thumb. Jase, however, perked up and dared to look pleased.
Martinez coasted to a stop behind the Jetta and got out to join them on the sidewalk. No uniform for her today, and no skimpy nightshirt either. Her long, curly hair was tied back in a sloppy ponytail, as if she’d pulled it up without the aid of a brush or mirror, and her wardrobe had been chosen with an equal lack of care—jeans ripped along one knee and a paint-splattered T-shirt. A lightweight leather jacket completed the ensemble. Hardly the picture of professional law enforcement.
“This is a surprise,” Jase said.
“Yeah, well here’s the thing, Jacobson’s friend—sorry, I don’t remember your name. After this asshole hung up on me, I kept wondering why the sudden interest in Pearl’s old address. Weird thing was, every time I started thinking about it, my mind would veer off to something else, like I couldn’t focus.” She shifted her weight, which was when Lucas noticed she was packing; the glint of a gun in a shoulder holster flashed beneath her jacket.
“And what did you make of that?” Jase asked, as though they were discussing the symphony over fish eggs and hundred-dollar martinis. He shushed Lucas when he started to speak.
“Something really weird is going on,” Martinez snapped. “That’s what I made of that. And then...”
Jase waited out the long pause with the patience of a saint, while Lucas threw nervous glances up the street toward number 844. Not that he wasn’t enjoying Martinez work out that she’d been a bitch about the address thing, but he was willing to gloat at a later date.
“What I didn’t get,” Martinez continued, “was why talking to Jacobson felt wrong. I mean, he was so good with the kid.” Her eyes shifted to Lucas. “I remember feeling like you were the first person I’d met from CPS who belonged there, like it was your destiny or something.”
“Don’t say that,” Lucas blurted.
“I tried to call you back, but the nurse who picked up the phone said you’d already been discharged.” She cocked her head, ponytail going flatter every second in the misting rain. “I see you found the place anyway.”
They had, and while the idea of a gun on their side of the equation gave Lucas a boost, he didn’t relish the idea of Swift telling her to turn it on them, or Martinez obeying with a smile. With his luck, she was holding a subconscious grudge about the empty gas tank thing. The way Jase was shaking his head, he’d come to that conclusion five minutes ago. “I’m sorry. We have to do this alone.”
She blinked rapidly, face screwing up in a rebellious expression, then shook her head. “No.”
Lucas grinned, turning to share his glee with Jase. Bet he hadn’t seen that coming. Looked like this town was full of people who could give Jase the proverbial finger. Okay, two didn’t equate to “full,” but it was still more than he’d ever met before. Maybe there was something in the water that wouldn’t bite your arm off.
“Carla, no,” Jase said, spinning Lucas back to dismay. “It isn’t safe in there.”
Jase didn’t know this woman at all, did he? As Lucas expected, Martinez drew herself up to her full five feet one inch and glared. “I’m a police officer. I’m trained to handle these kinds of things.”
Not these kinds of things. Lucas threw another glance down the street. By his calculations, the Pearl house should be right around the bend in the road. Out of sight for now, but the longer they took to get moving, the greater the possibility of attracting attention.
“This man can manipulate your thoughts with a word,” Jase said, not pulling any punches. “You know that, right? Because he’s done it already. He could tell you to shoot us, or yourself, and you’d do it with a smile on your face.”
Jase could do that too, if he wanted. Funny that Lucas had pictured all sorts of scenarios where Jase’s power would prove useful, but that one thing hadn’t occurred to him. If a rational person followed that line of thought, Jase could hypothetically instruct Martinez to shoot Swift, and she’d perform the task with enthusiasm, never understanding why she’d taken a life. How long would the question haunt her? Forever? Lucas began to understand where the headwaters of Jase’s self-disgust sprang from.
“He can do that? What kind of a monster is he?” Martinez whispered, and Lucas cringed, but Jase absorbed the statement with no reaction.
Still waters. Jase acted as though the person he’d been seven years ago was completely different from the one he was today, but how many people could have endured what he had? Jase hadn’t been selected at random. Lucas had suspected that for a while, but now he was sure. Very few could claim his strength of spirit.
“He can do that,” Jase told Martinez. “So if you come with us, I need you to stay out of sight. You can’t let him see you.”
“Will that really make a difference?” Lucas asked.
“Yes. If Swift isn’t aware she’s there, he won’t be focused on confusing or directing her.”
“But what about Jacobson?” Martinez asked. At Jase’s blank stare, she added, “Won’t Swift do the same thing to Jacobson?”
“Lucas is immune to ou—his influence.”
Martinez’s eyes narrowed at Lucas. “Isn’t that a nifty trick?”
“Got it in a box of Wheaties,” Lucas said, inspecting his fingernails.
She snapped her gum. “I took you more for the secret-spy-decoder-ring kind of guy.”
Lucas shook his head. “You have to buy Frosted Flakes for a decoder ring. Do you know how much sugar there is in one bowl of Frosted Flakes?”
“Do you know how pathetic it is that you do?” Martinez rolled her shoulders, addressing Jase. “I’m going.”
The mist grew into a gentle rain, and a trickle of water penetrated Lucas’s shirt, zigzagging down his back. Jase looked back and forth between them, then started up the sidewalk without a word.
They rounded the bend three abreast and there it was, the white plastic numbers like a beacon on the mailbox: 844. With the generous summer rains the yard was lush...rainforest lush. The peach stucco exterior and white-slatted hurricane shutters made the house look like a Mayan temple emerging from the jungle. One of the Pearls had been an amateur landscaper. The front yard boasted a crisscross of elevated planting beds, hemmed in with railroad ties. Had it been maintained, it would have made the lot unique. Left to expand on its own, it left too many hiding places for Lucas’s taste. A sheriff’s sale poster had been pasted over the faded Sunshine Realty sign in the yard.
Jase paused in the driveway, then took Martinez’s arm in his. He pointed Lucas to one side of the house. “I’ll take Carla and circle around from this way. We’re in luck. The hurricane shutters are closed.”
Lucas had been thinking the same thing. The Pearls must have put them up before they’d left. Inside the house would look and feel like a cave and give them little light to work with, but at least Swift wouldn’t see them coming. There had to be a means of entry somewhere—around the back made the most sense. He nodded, matching Jase’s steady gaze before edging around the right side of the house. Jase and Martinez circumnavigated the front yard and started up the opposite side.
Lucas’s wall angled out, creeping closer to the property line the farther back he trudged. The few windows that dotted the wall were sealed tight. Still, he ducked under them as he passed. The house was larger than it had looked from the street, not unlike the abandoned house the Pearls had settled in. He reached the end and peered around the side just as Jase did the same on the other end. They exchanged a brief wave.
Taking a deep breath, Lucas edged around the corner, straining for a glimpse of the back of the house, and came upon a stucco wall. Eight feet tall, it connected the two wings across the back, creating a private courtyard, which Lucas bet was visible from every room. Ignoring Jase’s frantic wave to pull back, he sneaked forward until he came to the aluminum gate that led inside.
He’d been right about the courtyard. Even left to disrepair and the elements, it was beautiful, filled with fruit trees, a flower garden and a stone fountain. The storm shutters were intact along the wings, but the large panel that was meant to cover one set of glass sliders had been unscrewed and set aside. Lucas squinted but saw nothing but inky blackness.
Now what? Getting close would be like running the gauntlet. There was no telling where Swift was hiding. The bastard could be watching Lucas right now. He ducked back, starting when he saw that Jase and Martinez had crept forward along their section of the courtyard’s wall. They stared at each other across the gate. “This is going to suck,” Lucas announced.
“We knew it wasn’t going to be easy,” Jase said in a loud whisper. He unlatched the gate, taking his time with the squeaky latch. “I’ll go first and try to get up against the back wall. Even if he’s standing right at the glass, he won’t be able to see from that angle.”
Lucas vetoed that idea. “I’ll go first,” he said, stabbing at his chest. “You need to stay alive for Macy. Let me be the rat in the maze.”
Judging from Jase’s horrified expression, Lucas might have offered to shoot himself with Martinez’s gun. “No. I’m going.”
“Mother of God. Move!” Martinez either wowed Jase with her eloquence or stomped on his foot—Lucas put money on the second option, considering Jase’s choked cry and the way he doubled over. Martinez swung the gate open and raced inside.
Lucas grabbed for her and missed.
Inside the courtyard, a patchwork of concrete squares and mulched beds created a brown-and-white checkerboard. Orange and grapefruit trees dotted the beds, wreathed by wilted pansies. Near the kitchen, a line of dying tomato plants framed an herb garden overrun with mint. A pink wagon off to the side held brightly colored gardening tools, and as Martinez sidestepped it, diving for cover along the wall, she brushed its wheel. Momentum carried it a few feet before it squeaked to a stop.
Lucas held his breath. Martinez stood flat against the wall, chest heaving. Calm down, Lucas thought, and she did, giving one last silent sigh before going still.
Nothing moved in the murky depths beyond the glass doors. Martinez reached under her jacket and unholstered her gun, then eased up and around the doorframe. After a few seconds, she gestured to Lucas. He moved before thinking twice; lingering would give the nervousness time to take hold.
He dodged the wagon, but nearly tripped over a rake hidden under the mint. Martinez caught his arm before he crashed into the side of the house. A moment later, Jase was beside him. Everyone accounted for. Now what?
Jase bent down, coming up with one of the fist-sized rocks that edged the herb garden, and Lucas’s heart hammered into his throat. They were about to lose their element of surprise. “Ready?” Jase asked.
“Wait.” Martinez dug in her pocket and came up with something far more useful than a rock. Lucas pointed at the silver key.
“Is that to here?” He jerked a thumb to the house at their backs.
With a nod, Martinez handed it to Jase, who examined it, the reached to fit it quietly into the lock.
“Where’d you get it?” Lucas whispered. Slowly, Jase spun the key clockwise.
