Blind Faith (31 page)

The guy opened his mouth in another one of those wide and blinding smiles and a horrifying thought struck JD. Had the terrorists already gotten Julia?

He bolted from his stool.

"Hey," the Colonel called out. JD froze, didn't turn for fear that his eyes would betray him if he faced the stranger. "Don't forget. Two o'clock."

"No sir," JD stuttered. "Thank you, sir."

He ran out, banging the door behind him.

Caitlyn told herself she had every right to be inside Hal's house. After all, she was retrieving her property. And the door was unlocked. Still, the house seemed creepier than it had last night. No longer warm and welcoming, it vibrated with a hostile presence.

"Scared of ghosts, Tierney?" she chided herself as she walked through the main hallway to the living room. She grabbed her cell phone and pocketed it. Her blouse lay on the floor in a wrinkled heap, surrounded by small pearl buttons.

It had been one of her favorites, but she made no move to retrieve it. The cuckoo clock chimed the hour and she jumped. The house fell into eerie silence.

Not silence. An undercurrent radiated through the foundation, setting her teeth on edge. A noise below the threshold of her hearing but loud enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck.

"The waterfall." Talking aloud helped to dispel the gloom. "It's so close it makes the entire mountainside tremble. Imagine living with that all the time. You'd go crazy."

Satisfied that she'd solved one mystery, she proceeded to work on the next. She climbed over the boxes that stood between her and the one she wanted in the far corner. As she suspected, the departmental phone records were nestled inside, gathered in a neat log book. She quickly flipped through it, searching for the days preceding Sam and Josh's murders.

And came up blank. The dates in question had been neatly razored out of the ledger.

She sat back on her haunches. Sometimes she hated when she was right. No one except Hal Waverly could have tampered with the phone records and expected to get away with it.

Had Logan bribed him? She reached for her cell phone.

"Clemens here," the lab tech sounded resigned as if he knew it was her before he answered the phone.

"Me again." She ignored his tone. "Any hits on the gun registration?"

"Caitlyn, I just walked in the door."

"Right. Well, this one is easy. Got your computer on?"

"Yes."

"Run a quick financial on Hal Waverly, Hopewell's Chief of Police. If you need his social and date of birth—"

"No, I have them. Aren't that many Hallenforth Waverlys in Hopewell, New York."

"Hallenforth? Really?" God, she'd almost slept with the guy and she didn't even know his real name. Maybe there was a lot she didn't know about Chief Waverly. She held the phone between her ear and shoulder as she restacked the boxes, leaving them just as she had found them. Except for the tampered log book shoved into her bag.

"Got it," Clemens' voice broke into the silence. "What did you want? Everything current looks clean."

"Go back two years. Summer of 2005." She wove her way back through the boxes, heading toward the front door.

"Okay. Wow, you're right. The guy was in debt up to his eyeballs. Hospital and medical companies threatening to sue, bank ready to foreclose on the house, major league problems."

"And?" She paused in the main hallway near the front door, waiting for his answer, even though the sinking feeling in her stomach told her she already knew what he would say.

"And it all vanished. Paid about $100,000 in cash, cleared it all except the second mortgage and he's kept up with that."

"When did he pay the cash?"

"August 31, 2005. Good thing, too. The bank was going to seize his house on September first. Made it in the nick of time, lucky guy."

"Luck had nothing to do with it. Thanks, Clemens."

"You're welcome. Hey, after all this is done, think you could help me apply to the academy? Don't get me wrong, I love working here in the lab, but I want to get out in the field like you do."

Caitlyn almost laughed. Tried to picture the lab tech out in the field where you never knew who you could trust. "Be careful what you wish for. Call me with those results."

She hung up and stepped outside onto the porch. The sun was now high enough to cast a bright swath of brilliance on the yard and the drive but left the porch cloaked in shadows. Caitlyn shivered and couldn't resist looking back over her shoulder.

Was surprised to see no one watching her from the front windows. She squared her shoulders and headed back to her car.

Time to get some answers.

Sarah watched the minute hand on the clock over Hal's desk slowly tick off the time. He'd uncuffed her long enough for her to go to the bathroom, but after she refused to explain what was happening, he'd otherwise ignored her and Logan.

All she could think was that each passing minute brought Josh closer to safety and this nightmare closer to ending. Although she doubted the ending would be a happy one. Logan would kill Sam once he got the money. If Alan didn't kill him first.

Not to mention the Russian.

She shuddered, remembering Sam's expression when he'd told her the horror story of how Korsakov had tortured and killed a man for the sheer pleasure of it. If it was true, she could begin to understand why he'd felt compelled to keep Josh safely hidden.

Understand, maybe. Forgive? Never.

Finally the door burst open. Alan breezed in, a smile creasing his face. "So what's all this about then?" he asked. He approached Sarah and clucked his tongue when he saw her handcuffs. "False imprisonment, Chief? Please, you know my client is innocent."

Hal slowly climbed to his feet. His eyelids drooped with fatigue and his shoulders slumped. "Want to hear what the charges are before you go making any decisions, counselor?"

Alan waved aside such technicalities. "Just give me a few minutes alone with my client and we'll have this all sorted out."

"Client or clients?" Hal asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

"He means me," Logan sang out from where he lounged across the cot in the holding cell. "I'm the innocent party in all this."

"It was your weapon that was discharged," Hal reminded him.

"Accident. I was startled. That's no crime."

"So you keep saying." Hal leveled his gaze onto Alan. "I'm tired of this bullshit. You talk to your clients long as you want. No one's going anywhere until I make sure he has a license to carry those guns and someone gives me a reasonable explanation. Understand?"

"Of course, Chief Waverly. Do you mind if we use the room?"

Hal rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "I need some fresh air anyway. I'm leaving the door open, so don't get any stupid ideas."

He bent down, took his gun from his desk drawer, and walked outside, propping the door open. A fresh breeze rushed in, stirring the papers on Hal's desk and clearing the stuffy atmosphere.

Alan quickly turned Sarah's chair around so that she faced Logan and scooted his own close to hers. "What the hell happened?"

Sarah listened as Logan spun the tale he'd prepared for the two of them. Alan narrowed his eyes at one point, then faced her head on, his hands covering both of hers, squeezing them against the arms of her chair.

"Is this true? Sam was already gone when you got there?"

She nodded, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

"Sam tackled Logan and just ran away? He didn't try to find you or kill Logan or anything?"

She heard the disbelief in his voice and knew this was her only chance. "We'd argued. In the woods before you came. I told him I never wanted to see him again, that all I wanted was Josh. I made him promise that he'd go get Josh, bring him to me."

Alan tilted his head, one eye squinting as if he saw the lies she'd woven between her truths. "Why didn't he just send you to Josh? He knows Korsakov is coming, why risk him finding you?"

"He did," Sarah stuttered. "He was. But you came and took him before he could tell me where Josh was."

"So you followed us down to the cabin?"

She nodded and looked down, not trusting her voice.

"You heard a gunshot and rushed in, found Logan lying there?"

She nodded again, found herself biting her lip and forced herself to relax.

"Where was Sam?"

"It was foggy," Logan put in. "You couldn't see your hand in front of your face."

"I'm asking her," Alan said, his voice level but his hands squeezing her wrists so hard the bones ground together. "Sarah, where is Sam?"

That she could answer truthfully. She choked back a sob of pain and frustration and raised her head to meet his gaze. "I don't know."

Caitlyn was surprised to find Hal slouched against his SUV, watching the open door of the police station.

"Did they escape?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

He glanced over at her. God, he looked wrecked. Dark hollows had formed below his eyes, his lips were pinched, and a tremor shook one hand as he drummed it on the hood of the GMC. What happened to the vibrant man who had literally swept her off her feet last night?

Maybe that Alice in Wonderland migraine had clouded her judgment in more ways than one. Something sure as hell had.

"Alan's here," he said, jerking his chin at the open door.

She waited but he didn't follow up with any explanation. "Alan?"

"Alan Easton. Oh yeah, he came to town after you were here last time. Big shot victims' right lawyer, tried to help Sarah get in to see Damian Wright so she could find out where Sam and Josh were buried."

She leaned against her still warm car. A victims' rights lawyer out here in the middle of nowhere, helping Sarah interview the man who most likely did not kill her husband and child? This was getting stranger and stranger.

"Did you say Alan Easton?" she asked, her memory finally putting two and two together.

"Yeah. You heard of him?"

"Sure. He's supposed to be really good," Caitlyn lied. Really good at talking his way out of a grand jury indictment while simultaneously not adding to the evidence against his Russian boss, that was. "I'd love to meet him."

She strolled into the station, startling the three people who sat huddled together near the holding cell. "Don't let me interrupt anything," she said, drawing on every ounce of southern charm she'd learned from her mother. She held her hand out to the stranger in the group. "You must be Alan Easton. It's nice to meet you."

The lawyer looked up in surprise, ready to expel her from his private client conference, but she smiled at him and watched as his expression changed. He took her hand and rose to his feet. "And you are?"

"Supervisory Special Agent Caitlyn Tierney," she said, holding his hand a moment too long. "I used to work with Jack."

Easton nodded. "I recognize your name from the case files, Agent Tierney."

"It's Caitlyn, please. I understand you actually interviewed Damian Wright?"

"Briefly. I was trying to convince him to meet with Sarah, give her some closure." He shook his head mournfully. "I'm afraid I failed."

"Still, I'd love to hear about it sometime. I mean," she smiled again, "you had a chance to see firsthand how the mind of a predator works. Any insight you could offer would be most valuable."

She felt Jack's BS meter start to rev up, as he leaned his weight against the bars of the holding cell. She turned to him. "I'm so sorry this is taking so long, Jack. I did call Quantico, asked them to expedite the records search." Now she favored him with a long, lingering glance, was rewarded when he smiled at her in return. "Least I could do after giving you such a hard time earlier. You know how slow things can go in these small town jurisdictions."

"Thanks, Caitlyn. I appreciate it."

"Now, Mrs. Durandt, it seems I owe you another apology." Caitlyn fished out her handcuff key and unsnapped the bracelet on Sarah's arm. "The gun they found you with was reported as being lost during the search for your husband and son two years ago. The deputy who dropped it is thankful you recovered it, but I'm afraid he'll be facing disciplinary action for being so careless."