Blind Faith (28 page)

"Martha Stewart makes it. It's designed for cooks. So much nicer than the plumber's torch, yes?"

Grigory laughed, a gleeful noise that bubbled forth as he twirled the lightweight blowtorch like a holiday sparkler. "It's brilliant. Excellent work."

Max gave a small nod and Grigory could tell that he was pleased by the praise. "What have you discovered about our target?"

"Everything," Max assured him as they resumed their positions in the Tahoe and continued north to the mountains. "Hopewell, New York. Population under 500. Police department consists of three officers and a chief, only two vehicles. They do have a mutual aid pact with the county sheriff department. No fire department. No major highways, only a single county road leading in and out. Our target, Sarah Durandt, lives at 312 Lake Road and teaches English in the local middle school—"

Grigory pivoted in his seat, interrupting Max's litany. "How did you discover this? There was no time for reconnaissance."

Another beaming smile from Max. "Didn't need to." He unearthed a computer the size of a notebook and opened it. "Welcome to the Hopewell Chamber of Commerce website. And the county sheriff has their own site as well. We have maps, building plans, satellite imagery. Everything you ever wanted to know."

Grigory scanned the photos and reams of information scrolling down the screen. He despised computers, they were for peons like Diamontes to use, not an artist like himself. But now he saw that perhaps there was something more to the machines and cyberspace. Nothing close to the level of artistic achievement he had attained, but poetic. In an ironic way.

"We have everything you need. Including," Max smirked at Alexi, "enough Semtex to destroy the dam above the town and bury any evidence that we were ever there. Once we block the road and cut off communication, the entire town of Hopewell is our playground."

Cold fire burned through Grigory's gut at the image of five hundred souls, huddled together for his enjoyment. His mother's father had claimed a distant relationship to Stalin, had bounced Grigory on his knee, extolling the dictator's virtues and whispering tales of his "diversions." Ever since he was a child, Grigory had been fascinated by torture and mass murderers, had studied the masters back to the days of ancient Persia and Sparta.

Now he would surpass them all. Five hundred lives, his to command. His masterpiece—bigger, bolder than Picasso's Guernica. A living, breathing, bleeding testament to his genius.

"I want to see this place for myself. Then we'll pay Miss Sarah a visit. Get a look at the lovely lady up close and personal."

"Since I only have the one holding cell," Hal said as he escorted Sarah inside the police department's cramped office, "I'm afraid I'll have to handcuff you to a chair. It's only until we get this all straightened out."

Sarah didn't argue, she was still too stunned by the turn of events. Josh and Sam alive, Alan a crook who wanted to kill her, Sam a crook who had other crooks trying to kill him, the FBI in on it all, Sam lying to her, hiding her son from her, stealing two years of her life from her. Not to mention the biggest shock of all: the realization that he was the only one she could trust to save Josh.

Her body felt heavy and she was glad to sit in the chair Hal guided her to. Thank goodness he'd returned to his usual self after finding Logan. Hal seemed to assume Logan was to blame for this mess.

"Hey, that's not right," Logan protested as Caitlyn opened the door to the holding cell and motioned him inside. "I'm the victim here. She was holding the gun on me. If anyone gets locked up, it should be her, not me."

"Go on, Jack," Caitlyn said, giving him a small shove.

Logan dug in his heels. "C'mon, cut me some slack here, Caitlyn. I'm a federal agent, just like you."

"
Former
federal agent. Get in."

Hal finished restraining Sarah's left wrist to the chair arm and strode over to confront Logan. He stood, hands on his hips, leaning forward so that his face was mere inches from Logan's. "My house, my rules. If I want you locked up, you get locked up. Now!"

The last came out as a bark that made Sarah jump. Hal never lost his cool, never. But then lots of things that she'd never expected seemed to be happening tonight.

Hal placed his hand on the small of Logan's back and before Sarah could blink, the former FBI agent was locked in the cell. Caitlyn held out her hand and Hal dropped a set of keys into her palm. She crooked her finger at Logan who thrust his hands through the bars and waited impatiently while she removed his cuffs.

"Terroristic threats, false imprisonment, assault," he said in a petulant tone, shaking his head at Caitlyn. "This isn't going to end well. Your can kiss your career good-bye, Caitlyn."

Sarah was surprised to see Caitlyn grin at that. "Already have, Jack. Already have. Shut up while I talk with Mrs. Durandt, will you?"

"You're wasting time, Caitlyn. I'm the one you should be talking with. After you do, you'll be wishing you'd cooperated with me, shown me some respect."

Sarah ignored Logan as she watched Hal unclip his gun and lock it in his bottom desk drawer. He took the two wallets he'd taken from Logan and quickly flipped through them. Her heart stuttered when he opened Sam's but he said nothing, merely dropped it in his desk drawer, leaving Logan's wallet on the desk in plain sight. He raised his head, his gaze piercing as he stared at her and gave her a small nod.

She released the breath she'd been holding and mouthed the words,
thank you
. When Caitlyn joined him at the desk, he was thumbing through Logan's credentials. "He does have a permit for the HK. But not for the Glock."

Caitlyn cleared the magazine and rounds from both guns. Her hands seemed to float effortlessly over the weapons, as if she could perform the maneuver in her sleep.

"Expensive," she said as she sighted down the Heckler-Koch's barrel, breaking every rule of gun safety by aiming it at Logan. "And it's been fired recently. Hope those insurance folks give you a nice severance package, 'cause I don't think you'll be working much in the future, Jack."

"Caitlyn, we need to talk," Logan replied, exasperation coloring his tone.

"I'm all ears," Hal answered. Logan curled his lips in a frown and turned his back on the police officer. "Agent Tierney has no jurisdiction in this matter, so until you decide to speak with me, I'm afraid that cell will be your home."

"We'll see about that, you shit-kicking redneck," Logan muttered.

Hal's face flushed. He scooped Logan's gun and ammunition into an evidence bag. Caitlyn was examining Richland's gun, frowning as she traced a fingernail along the bottom of the grip. "This one hasn't been fired but it looks like government issue. I can have our guys at Quantico run it through the system."

Hal reached for the gun and took it from her, dropping it into a separate evidence bag. "It's four in the morning. It can wait."

Sarah saw the narrowed look Caitlyn shot him. Hal had his back turned, locking all the evidence in the small safe that sat behind his desk. "Matter of fact," he said, his back still to her, "why don't you head down the mountain to your motel, get some rest? We can straighten all this out by the light of day."

Caitlyn settled into the other chair, stretching her legs out before her. "Sorry. You're stuck with me. I never had a chance to check into a motel." She turned to Sarah. "So, Mrs. Durandt. Do you want to exercise your right to an attorney or would you like to clear this all up right here and now?"

"Don't say anything, Sarah," Logan called out. "Call Alan. He'll straighten this out."

Caitlyn swiveled to stare at him. "A minute ago you were calling her a desperate criminal who kidnapped you at gunpoint. Now you're helping her with her legal rights?"

Logan shrugged and smiled. "You know the Bureau's motto, Caitlyn. Truth, justice, and the American way."

"Bull shit. What in hell is going on here?"

Hal intervened. "Calm down everyone. If Sarah wants a lawyer, she has every right to call one. And she deserves some privacy while she does. Agent Tierney, would you mind joining me out in the hallway?"

Sarah was grateful for his help, but the look of suspicion that settled onto Caitlyn's face made her nervous. Hal pushed the phone over to where she could reach it and tapped Caitlyn on the shoulder, nodding toward the door leading into the post office.

"We can't leave prisoners unattended," Caitlyn protested.

"They're not going anywhere. Besides, I'd like to have a word with you. Now."

Sarah hesitated, her hand on the phone receiver. Caitlyn stood but her eyes were narrowed and her brow creased as she stalked from the room. Hal followed her and closed the door behind them.

"Alone at last," Logan sang out. "That police chief of yours is a real rube. He must have a soft spot for you, though. So Sarah, here's how we play this. You saw lights on in the cabin, found me there. When you saw the gun in my hand, you jumped me, took me by surprise, and tied me up. You were just getting ready to call the police when Chief Bozo and the girl-wonder showed up all hot and bothered."

Sarah listened, hating to lie to Hal, but accepting the necessity. Logan's eyes glittered as he craned his head to look through the small window in the door Caitlyn and Hal had passed through.

"Your chief does have good taste, though. I tried for years to get Caitlyn in the sack and all I got for my troubles were threats of reporting me for harassment. Hmm, hmm. I wonder if she was worth it. I'd expect her to be a ball-buster. Maybe that's why he's willing to serve her up now."

Logan's stare raked over Sarah. She felt dirty, clammy as if he'd had his hands on her. "Or do you two have something going? Has Chief Bozo been knocking on your door, comforting the poor, widow lady?"

"Go to hell."

He laughed. "Just don't forget our deal. Call Alan, play it like Sam jumped me and you heard the gunshot, stumbled in on everything. Act all sweet and innocent. I'm sure you know the routine." He leered at her, one eyebrow arched. "Our favorite lawyer still has ideas about getting you in the sack, he'll forget everything else if you play along. Promise him the world. Tell him you don't care about Sam, that you ran away because he betrayed you. Tell him all you care about is getting your son back, that you'll do anything if he helps you."

Sarah swallowed hard. She would do anything to get Josh back, but pretending she cared about Alan made her skin crawl. He'd see right through her, she was certain.

No. She'd have to get it right. She raised the receiver and dialed Alan's number. Sam and Josh's lives depended on it.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Caitlyn wheeled on Hal as soon as the door shut behind him. "You can't leave prisoners unattended."

"Maybe you haven't noticed, Agent Tierney, but this isn't the FBI. You get me a budget that lets me do everything by the book and I'll be happy to. But my only other option is to drive them down to the county lockup in Plattsburgh and I'm not ready to do that. In fact, I'm betting there won't even be any charges brought on all this."

He leaned against the wall beside the bulletin board with the Wanted posters as if this was a normal day's work. His face was relaxed, but she saw his hand working, opening and closing into a tight fist. He followed her glance and his hand froze, then he began scratching at the inside of one wrist like something had crawled under his skin.

"You're betting on your friend, Sarah Durandt," she said. "Look, Hal. I like her too. But there's something going on here. And I think she's in it, up to her pretty little eyeballs."

"I've known Sarah practically all her life. Trust me, she wasn't involved in what happened to Sam and Josh."

"What about Logan? I told you what I'd found at Quantico—"

"Which is why he's the one behind bars." He pushed off the wall and raised both hands, placing them on her shoulders, squeezing lightly. "You sure this isn't about what happened earlier? I'm sorry if I put you in a compromising position." He flicked the collar of her shirt, lowered his head, and kissed her. "But it was worth it, Caitlyn. Every minute. It was a precious gift, and my only regret is that we don't have more time."