A Good Kind of Trouble (A Trouble in Twin Rivers Novel Book 1) (42 page)

"I'll pick you up. Meet me on the street in five minutes."
 

When he swung by Gordo's apartment building four minutes later, his friend was waiting at the curb dressed in a black long-sleeved t-shirt and dark jeans. All he needed was a black knit cap to complete the cat burglar costume.

"We're not breaking into a museum," Ben said, as Gordo climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep. "I just don't want to leave my client alone and can't watch him and Lindsey at the same time."
 

"I'll take Lindsey," Gordo said, then grinned when Ben glared.
 

Ben gave him a brief recap of the evening as he sped toward the industrial area.
 

"Well, that explains why Dani had to cancel our date," he said. "Holy cow! That's exciting."
 

That was one word for it. An image flashed through his mind of Lindsey struggling to get out of the van, Spider pulling at her arm. Heart-stopping, enraging, terrifying—those terms seemed more apt.

He dimmed his lights as the Jeep coasted up to park behind Lyle's beige sedan. He got out and checked the deserted street, then glanced at Lonnie Corcoran's darkened office. There were a few cars parked on the street, but he didn't see any people.
 

Ben walked up to the passenger side window and tapped on the glass. Lyle leaned over and unlocked the door and Ben slid into the car.
 

"I couldn't reach Agent Pritchard, but I left a message. Have you seen Teri Schulman?"

Lyle shook his head.
 

"She's been in there for eighteen minutes," he said, tapping his watch. Then his face paled and he jumped nearly out of the driver's seat, his seatbelt yanking him back down. "Aaugh! Who's that?"
 

Ben looked over his shoulder and saw Gordo tapping on the rear window. He gave Ben a wave and Ben unlocked the rear passenger door.

"He's with me," he said, as Gordo climbed in. He introduced the men. "I asked Gordo to stay with you because I have to get back to the
Beacon
. He's a lawyer, and he's my friend. Whatever you two do, do not approach anyone. In fact, I would prefer that you go home, Lyle. But I suspect you won't, so you shouldn't be alone."
 

Another tap on the glass behind Lyle's head nearly sent Lyle into Ben's lap, but he was again jerked back by his seatbelt. This time, Matt Pritchard peered in and Ben nodded to Gordo to unlock the other door.
 

"Gentlemen, you are officially the worst surveillance crew I've ever seen," Matt said, joining Gordo in the backseat.
 

Ben nodded in agreement and introduced Gordo to the agent.
 

"When you say we're not good at surveillance, what exactly are we doing wrong?" Gordo asked, his face serious.
 

"Well, for starters, you should turn off the automatic dome light, so the car doesn't light up each time one of you comes or goes," Matt said. "Also, you should just stay put."
 

"Thanks for coming down here," Ben said before Gordo whipped out a pen and paper and started quizzing the federal agent for tips on how to improve his surveillance skills.

"Thanks for calling me. My partner's interviewing Ms. Schulman's husband, but he seems to have been blindsided by her involvement with EFB and the payments to council members," Matt said. "We don't have a warrant to go in to Corcoran's office, but I have eyes on the back of the building in case she leaves and we'll keep an eye on her."
 

He quizzed Lyle on when Teri arrived and what she was driving, jotting the notes in a small pad.
 

"Do you have any idea where she would go from here?" Matt asked Lyle.
 

Lyle shook his head. "No, I don't know anything about her personal life. I mean, other than what I learned recently. You know, about her girlfriend."

The three men all stared at Lyle.
 

"Uh, girlfriend?" Matt asked, his brow furrowed.
 

"Well, yes. Ms. Schulman's been, uh, dating the attorney for the newspaper," he said.
 

"Lara Petrie?" Ben asked.
 

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Matt asked.
 

“It’s the name of Dick van Dyke’s wife on that old TV show,” Gordo said.
 

"Similar name, very different person," Ben said. He gave Matt the information he had about the
Beacon
's in-house counsel, which wasn't much. "I'm on my way back to the newspaper now. If I see her or hear anything, I'll let you know. But there's something else you should know. Teri Schulman's also been having an affair with my former boss, Gregory Stanton."

"Jesus," Matt whispered. "Is there anyone that woman isn't having an affair with?"
 

"Who is Gregory Stanton?" Lyle asked.
 

"Oh my God, Ben, how do you know this?" Gordo asked.
 

"Not important right now," Ben said to his friend. Then he turned to Matt. "Also, she and Stanton have a cabin at Hunter Lake where they meet."

Matt took down the address and shook his head. "You guys should probably get out of here."

 
He thanked them again for the call and Ben started to get out of the car.
 

"Lyle, can you drop Gordo off at his apartment? I need to get back to the
Beacon
."
 

Lyle nodded just as Matt's radio squawked and the agent bolted from the backseat. Tires squealed and a black SUV streaked past the intersection, its headlights off, followed by a dark car with a red and blue flashing light bar in the grill. Matt ran and jumped into the passenger seat of a nondescript car parked at the end of the block, which followed the pursuit.
 

"Okay, then," Ben said. "No reason for you guys to hang out here now."
 

Lyle and Gordo both seemed disappointed that they were going to miss out on the action, but promised to leave. Ben jogged back to his Jeep, Lindsey at the forefront of his mind on the ten-minute drive back to the
Beacon
.
 

At the lobby, the security guard called Lindsey's desk to confirm she was expecting a visitor.
 

"Sorry, buddy," he said. "She's probably gone for the day."
 

Ben swore, then apologized. "She was supposed to wait. Can you call Charlie Grove for me?"
 

The guard picked up the phone, but Ben heard someone calling his name from above. Charlie waved from the walkway above the lobby.

"I lost her," he yelled. "She must have left through the back stairs. I checked the employee lot. Her car's gone."
 

"Thanks."
 

Ben ran out the front door, his heart thumping in his chest.
 

His hands gripped the steering wheel and his jaw tensed as he sped down residential streets toward Lindsey’s house.
She's fine
. She's just impatient, refuses to do as she's told, and has no idea that Spider Barlowe might not be the only threat against her.
 

The first fat raindrops hit the windshield and he felt the Jeep shudder with a blast of wind that blew leaves across the beams of his headlights.
 

As he drove onto Lindsey's street, he saw a familiar vehicle creeping along the narrow lane.
 

That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The wind whipped Lindsey's hair across her face as she walked across the dark parking lot toward her car. The storm that had been hovering on the horizon all day finally arrived and was promising rain. Maybe a lot of rain. That would be nice after a long, hot, dry summer.
 

She would have enjoyed it more if she were wearing her own shoes and not the spare running shoes that Charlie had lent her. With each step, she had to concentrate on not stepping out of the too-big Nike sneakers. She checked around her car as she approached, but all the tires were inflated and there didn't seem to be any damage to the mirrors or paint job. No one lurked about either.
 

She was probably just being paranoid since Spider Barlowe was in police custody. But the bike messenger was working for someone—probably Lara Petrie and Teri Schulman—and they were still on the loose. Ben must have figured she was safe and had gone home himself. She had left a note for Charlie that she was going home and would return his shoes tomorrow, then ducked out the back stairs that led to the employee parking lot.
 

As she pulled out of the parking lot, the sky opened up, fat raindrops smacking onto her windshield. She squinted through the window, trying to keep the car centered in the lane as the steady rain grew into a downpour. A gust of wind shook the little car and she gripped the steering wheel tighter. Any other day, she would enjoy the storm, but tonight it left her uneasy.

She pulled into the driveway and saw that she had forgotten to leave the porch light on. She ran toward the steps to the darkened porch, immediately stepping out of her shoes and into puddles on the driveway.
 

“Oh, yuck," she said, her feet splashing. She grabbed Charlie's shoes and threw them on the porch and out of the rain. Fumbling in her bag, she found her keys and unlocked the front door. She heard Steve's feet on the tile floor on the other side of the door.
 

"Poor baby," she said. "Did you miss me?"
 

She tapped the alarm code into the pad on the wall as Steve rushed past her with a growl. She whirled around to see a pear-shaped figure on the edge of the porch, standing under the dangling broken porch light that swayed in the wind. There was just enough light to see the gun in the man's hand. He pointed it at her, then at the dog, then back to her.
 

"Your choice, Ms. Fox," Gregory Stanton said. "Keep your dog away or I'll shoot him."

Lindsey grabbed Steve's collar and kept him at her side.
 

"What do you want?"

"You're going to help me find Teri," he said, motioning to the door. "Go in the house."
 

Lindsey’s eyes darted toward the street, but it was empty—typical for a late Tuesday night in her quiet neighborhood.
 

"There's no one out here but us," Stanton snapped. "Get inside."
 

Lindsey juggled her bag, so she could keep her grip on Steve's collar. Grabbing the doorknob with her right hand, she dragged Steve with her left, forcing him into the house. She stepped over the threshold and twisted, jerking the door with all her might to try and keep the madman with the gun out.
 

"Hey!"
 

The door slammed against Stanton’s wrist, just as Lindsey's wet feet slipped on the tile entry. A sharp bolt of pain shot up from her ankle and she gasped in anger and shock at the wrenching pain. She fell backward, twisting her ankle further, and the side of her head smacked into the wall. A riot of stars clouded her vision. She blinked to try and keep her focus and redoubled her efforts to keep the door shut.

Steve jumped at the arm still pinned in the door, his jaws clamping around the man's hand.
 

"God damn it! Get it off me," he yelled.
 

Lindsey leaned against the door as Stanton fought to get his hand loose from the dog's grip. Her wet feet and clothes didn't give her any traction and when Stanton gave a good shove against the door, she slid helplessly. He lowered the gun at the snarling dog and Lindsey jumped up to grab Steve, but her ankle gave out at the first bit of pressure.
 

She managed to fall over the dog, putting herself between Steve and the gun.
 

"Don't hurt him!” she yelled, pulling Steve with her as she scooted back toward the wall.
 

"I just want to find Teri," Stanton said, his voice shaking. One hand dripped blood on the floor, the other gripped the gun.
 

"I don't know where she is," Lindsey said, trying to think of the man as a scared and injured animal. She flexed her foot and the pain nearly took her breath away. Nothing seemed to be broken, though. If she had to, she'd be able to run on it—at least a short distance, which might be enough to get away from Stanton.
 

"You've been investigating her. You must know something," Stanton said.
 

Lindsey shook her head. "I don't know anything."
 

He slammed the door behind him and stood over her. Steve growled and lowered his head, but Lindsey kept her hand tight on his collar, the gun central in her field of vision.
 

"You knew enough to be hanging around outside our cabin at Hunter Lake," he said, his beady eyes narrowing even further. "We found your flashlight. That was you, wasn't it?"

Lindsey's breath left her in a rush. She was nearly paralyzed with the pain from her ankle and the fear of Stanton's gun. He pointed the gun at her and she saw it tremble.
Just keep him calm. Keep him talking.

"She took everything," he said. His voice cracked. "Everything. Every last dollar we'd saved. This wasn't supposed to happen."
 

He started pacing around the living room, and Lindsey glanced around. What would Liz Allen do in this situation? She'd once been kidnapped, but that was in Central America and the guerrillas had just wanted someone to tell their story. Liz had talked her way out of any danger by agreeing to interview them and show the footage on American television. Lindsey didn't have that leverage. She had no idea what she could offer to Stanton to convince him to let her go.
 

She needed an escape route. She was about ten feet from the hallway entrance, but even if she could get there, that gave her limited options—her bedroom, the office, or the tiny bathroom. She was across the room from the entrance to the kitchen. If she could get there, she could get to the backyard, and then into the park behind the house and hide among the trees and bushes, or possibly get to a neighbor's house. But Stanton was pacing between her and the kitchen.