Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-seven

C
lay wasn’t joking. He really was going to kill Payton.

It took Leigh a moment to muddle through her shock over hearing Mira’s frightened voice, followed by the rough orders of a man willing to hurt her. But as soon as she started thinking clearly again, she realized that she was about to witness a murder.

She flung herself out of the car and stepped right in front of Clay’s gun.

He jerked the barrel up, rage twisting his mouth. “Get out of the way, Leigh. This has to happen.”

“No. It doesn’t. The two of you can’t jump straight to murder without even taking five minutes to think of other options.”

“I don’t need five minutes,” said Payton. “I’ve been dealing with danger for most of my life. I’ve already run through the options. So has Clay. This is the only thing that makes sense. At least this way my death will mean something.”

“He’s right, Leigh. If you don’t want to see what’s going to happen, then close your eyes.”

“No. I’ve spent my life healing people. I’m not going to stand by while a good man dies.”

“I’m not a good man.”

Leigh turned to Payton, searching for some way to talk sense into him. “We have two hours before they’ll call back with instructions on where to meet to make the exchange. We have time to find the people who have the files and take them.”

“How?” asked Clay. “They said they’d get the files to me as soon as they’d confirmed the kill. I have no way of contacting them. How are we going to find them?”

“Do we even know why they want you dead?” she asked Payton. “Think. Whoever is doing this must be really mad at you.”

“There’s a long list of people who want me dead. It doesn’t exactly narrow things down.”

Apparently, there was a lot about Payton that she didn’t know. But now was not the time for a history lesson. “Start at the top. Who do you think has both the motive to kill you and the means to find those files and hire Clay to do the job?”

“If I knew what was in the files, I could start somewhere, but unless whoever was on the phone told you, I’m afraid I can’t think of anyone specific.”

Clay’s voice came from right behind her, low but insistent. “Out of the way, Leigh. You’re wasting time we don’t have.”

Leigh ignored him. “The man at the fountain was mid-thirties, dark hair, brown eyes, expensive clothes.”

“That could be one of a hundred people I know,” said Payton. “Without seeing his face . . .”

A shard of hope lanced through her. “Wait. We got his photo.”

“That’s right,” said Clay. “We did.”

He went to the car and got the camera. He handed it to Payton, who scrolled through the photos.

“I know this man. I know who he works for.”

“Who?” demanded Clay.

Payton shook his head, anger rolling off him in furious waves. “No. I’ve got this. Go wait for me in the parking lot at the Edge. I’ll be there in less than an hour with those files. While you’re there, stock up on ammunition. We may need it.”

*   *   *

Payton could not remember a time in his life when he’d been more furious. Senator Gregory Kerrington II had a lot of explaining to do. Too bad Payton was in no mood to hear it.

He pounded on the senator’s door until lights in the house started to come on. When one of his staff opened the door, Payton shoved his way in, ignoring the outraged protests of the young man.

Greg came down the stairs, his wife on his heels. As soon as he saw Payton, he stalled on the steps. “Go back to bed. I’ll deal with this.”

Both Mrs. Kerrington and the curious staff disappeared, leaving Payton alone with the man who’d ordered his death.

“We’ll talk in my office,” said Greg. “Unless you mean to gun me down right here.”

The senator had aged since Payton had seen him last. His hair was thinner, and under that excellent dye job, probably a lot grayer, too. He hadn’t kept himself in shape, and out of his perfectly tailored suits, it was obvious that his age hung on him in heavy folds. His publicity shots no longer matched his current appearance, especially the genial twinkle that had doubtlessly been Photoshopped in his eyes.

“Office,” was all Payton could choke out. The second the doors shut, he exploded. “You could have at least had the decency to kill me yourself.”

Greg’s face showed not a hint of remorse. “I’m too old for that and you know it.”

“Why?”

“You know too much. Both you and Bob.”

“So you’re planning to have him killed, too?”

“No one can get to him. You . . . you were an easier target.”

“That still doesn’t answer why. I’ve known too much for years and this is the first time you’ve comeyou’ve gunning for me. Hell, I’m the one busting my ass in an effort to make up for what all of us did. You’re too worried about reelection to bother helping the people we damaged.”

“I didn’t damage anyone. I merely did what I was told. If you understood that, you wouldn’t be such a threat.”

“So that’s what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night. Must be nice and cozy all wrapped up in your denial like that.”

Greg’s face reddened with anger. “Why are you here?”

“I should kill you. Heaven knows you deserve it.”

“You’d never make it off the property.”

“Which is one of the two reasons you’re still breathing.”

“And the other is?”

“The files. I want them. Now.”

“What files?” asked Greg, doing a decent job of pretending ignorance.

“The ones you offered to hand out in exchange for my murder. Give them to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your aide. I saw him make a deal with Clay. My life for the files, which means you have them. Give them to me.”

Greg laughed. “I don’t think so. They’re far too valuable to let go. Besides, word is that you have your own files to transport.”

“The only way you’d know that is if you’d tapped into my phone lines.”

Greg shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea to keep tabs on you. Based on what I heard, I was right.”

Payton’s patience was at an end. He grabbed Greg by the lapels of his robe and slammed him into the bookcase. “The files, Greg. The life of a woman I care about is on the line. Don’t make me beat the information out of you.”

“You don’t have the balls to assault me.”

Payton tightened his fist and slammed it into the man’s nose, breaking it. Blood gushed down his chin and he sputtered in shock.

Payton pulled his fist back. “Care to go another round? I’m sure your plastic surgeon could use the money.”

Tears streamed down Greg’s face, mixing with the blood. He pointed to his left. “There. In the safe.”

Payton shoved him in that direction. “Open it.”

Greg did. Payton emptied it out, leaving behind cash, passports, and jewelry. Anything else that even remotely resembled a file was coming with him.

“What’s in here?” Payton asked.

Greg hesitated for only a moment before shoving out the answer. “Locations of old sites. Lists of participants and last known addresses.wn addre All of the RC codes.”

Bingo. “All of them?”

“All that I know of. But they won’t do you any good.”

“Why not?”

“They’re encrypted. None of my associates could break it.”

“Now, why would you want to have access to those files, Greg?” asked Payton, already knowing the answer. “Were you looking for some people to do your dirty work—people you could control without any question of loyalty?”

Greg’s lips pressed together, as if holding in the truth. Which only confirmed it.

“Is there anything else you have that is even remotely related to the Threshold Project?” asked Payton.

Greg shook his head. Anger burned in his eyes, but he was too much of a coward to do anything about it. That didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be more hits ordered on Payton’s life, however.

He gave Greg a good shove, pushing him into his desk hard enough to make his pens rattle. “If I so much as think someone is following me—by your orders or not—I’m coming back to take you out in your sleep, understood?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“If you really believe that, then I guess you have nothing to lose. Good luck with that.”

Payton left, burdened by the knowledge that there was at least one more man he was going to have to kill before he died.

*   *   *

“He’ll show,” said Leigh. “He cares about Mira as much as you do.”

Clay scanned the entrance to the underground lot at the Edge, searching for headlights. “I doubt that.”

“He was willing to die for her. That has to prove something.”

“Maybe,” Clay grudgingly admitted. “Maybe he’s just that good of an actor and knew all along he’d find a way out. I don’t trust myself to know the difference anymore.”

Leigh covered his hand with hers, and he wasn’t sure if he should push it away so he could concentrate or beg her to touch him more so he could find a moment of blissful distraction.

Mira’s life was in danger. Because of him. It had to be his fault. If he’d managed to get those files before now, she’d be at home, snuggled safely in bed, or watching one of those stupid B movies she loved so much.

Clay had taken her for granted. He’d always assumed that she’d be there—that she was the one permanent fixture in his life. She was the only family he had, and now he realized just how much that meant.

“We will get her back, safe and sound,” said Leigh, telling him exactly what he needed to hear so he could pull in his next breath.

If it weren’t for Leigh, Clay would probably not be breathing at all. It made him wonder how he was going to keep going once they went their separate ways.

The thought left him feeling too empty and desolate to consider. He was already dealing with too much shit to add any more, so he shoved those bleak thoughts aside and willed Payton to hurry the hell up.

A minute later, Payton pulled in, just as he’d promised. Until Clay saw his face, he wasn’t sure the man would actually show. Only his willingness to end his life had allowed Clay the room to let him go.

Payton got out of his car. There was blood on his shirt and a promise of retribution in his pale eyes. “Any word from Mira?”

Leigh glanced at the phone. “No. We have another few minutes before they’re supposed to call.”

Payton had a stack of folders and envelopes in his hands. “I’m going to make copies of everything. I’ll be back in five.”

“Copies?” asked Leigh.

“No, it’s a good idea. Whatever information is in there, we’re going to want to know what it is.”

Payton nodded and headed into the building. “I’ll hurry.”

A few minutes later, the phone rang. Leigh jumped, fumbling to answer it. She was silent, listening. A male voice was barely audible, the words completely muffled.

Clay held a notepad and pen ready for her to use if she needed it. She wrote down a string of numbers that Clay recognized as coordinates.

“I want to talk to Mira. We need to know she’s okay.”

He heard nothing coming through the plastic; then there was a lighter, fainter voice. Mira’s.

Relief fell over Clay but lasted for only a second. The sound of her voice changed pitch, moving into a choking sob.

“We’re coming, Mira,” said Leigh. “Just hang on.”

The man’s voice came back. Leigh’s expression changed to one of pure, undiluted hatred. “He’ll never go for that.”

More deep words, only this time they were harder, louder—choppy with anger.

“Fine,” grated Leigh from between clenched teeth. “But if you give her so much as a hangnail, I’ll—” She looked at the phone, then at Clay. “He hung up.” Her chin quivered and she started breathing fast with panic.

“What’s wrong, Leigh. What did he say?”

She closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. When she let it out again, she seemed more in control. “He said to be there in ninety minutes. After that, he’s going to start cutting off her fingers—one for every minute we are late.”

Nausea hit Clay like a fist in the gut. “Oh God. Mira.”

“We need to go. Now.”

Payton came out carrying a briefcase, two rifle cases, and a duffel bag. Clay laid on the horn to get him to hurry. Payton had barely lifted his foot from the pavement when Clay took off, leaving a layer of rubber behind.

Leigh had to raise her voice to be heard over the engine. “He said I have to go alone.”

“Like hell,” said Clay. “I’m going. I won’t risk you, too.”

“You can’t,” said Payton. “Sage will trigger you, and you won’t even remember or care who Mira is. I’ll go.”

“He said it had to be me. If anyone else goes in, Dr. Sage said he’d kill her.”

“His own daughter?” asked Clay, outraged.

“It doesn’t surprise me,” said Payton. “He already murdered his wife.”