EDGE OF SUSPENSE: Thrilling Tales of Mystery & Murder (11 page)

He took the gun from his holster and dragged
the agent into the stall. Suspecting they were on to him, Wilson
didn't wait around to be cornered. He went back out, ready to go
down in a blaze of glory. But not before the president went
down.

* * *

"There's been a security breach," Genevieve
told Grant. "The Lombards used the aliases of Robert and Kristina
Stephens to get in."

Grant frowned. "How the hell did they slip
past the checkpoint?"

"Somehow they managed to get on the guest
list." Genevieve could only imagine that all hell would break loose
as a result. "The belief is that neither of them had a firearm
since they passed through the magnetometer, but they're both still
thought to be major threats to the president and his guests."

"Dammit," Grant cursed. His eyes were
already ahead of his feet in search of the couple. "We'd better
nail them."

"We will," she said confidently, enjoying
the adrenalin rush she got whenever the danger level went up a few
notches in the course of their duties.

They began communicating with other Secret
Service agents and undercover law enforcement personnel as everyone
turned their attention to tracking down the dinner crashers, even
if, technically speaking, they had apparently received an
invitation under false pretenses.

Inside the Blue Room, Genevieve spotted a
leggy blonde in a gold and purple gown about to approach the
president in the receiving line. Though she could only see her
profile, it was enough to convince her that the woman was in fact
Elizabeth Lombard pretending to be Kristina Stephens. She got a
good look at the tall, dark-haired man beside Elizabeth and
identified him as Harold Lombard. He had one hand in his pocket as
though brandishing a weapon of some sort.

"There they are," Genevieve said,
pointing.

"I see them," Grant responded. "Whatever
they have in mind, we need to stop them now." He reached for his
sidearm, a SIG Sauer P229 pistol.

They rushed toward the president who was
greeting guests along with President Matlala. Genevieve watched as
Elizabeth shook the president's hand. Then she quickly pulled a
steak knife out of her purse and drew her arm back, clearly
planning to stab the president.

Not thinking twice, Genevieve lunged
forward, flying into the air. At the last moment, she grabbed
Elizabeth's hand, twisting it away from the president before the
knife could make contact. Genevieve's momentum carried her and the
would-be assassin to the floor, where she landed on top of
Elizabeth. The two struggled before Genevieve was able to subdue
and handcuff her. She had no time to gloat, realizing that was only
half the battle.

"Put your hands up and get down on the
ground!" Grant ordered Harold Lombard, aiming his gun at him.

Ignoring him, Harold went after the
president, attempting to hit him in the face with both fists, which
the president managed to dodge by angling his neck back and bobbing
his head. Grant fired two shots at Harold, hitting him with both as
he went down.

Agents pounced on Harold and Elizabeth as
Genevieve rolled off her. Other agents quickly surrounded the
president and began ushering him out of the room.

At that moment, shots rang out. Genevieve
was still on the floor, but she could see a man shooting
haphazardly and people scrambling. She recognized him as Wilson
Jaboo, the Lombards' crony. She went for her purse on the floor and
took out her weapon. In spite of being in an awkward position,
Genevieve didn't want to wait for someone else to take him out. She
fired at him once, hitting him squarely in the chest. Other agents
followed up with several more shots as Wilson crumpled to the
floor.

Grant helped Genevieve to her feet. "Are you
all right?"

Her head was still ringing after hitting it
on Elizabeth Lombard's shoulder during the fall, but she was
comforted by the warmth of Grant's arms. "I think so."

"I'm getting word now that the shooter,
Wilson Jaboo, took out an agent earlier. Apparently he managed to
infiltrate the premises under an assumed name by cozying up to a
group from Gabon."

"Could there be more assassins here?"

Grant shook his head. "Doesn't look like
it." He still had his arm around her waist, as if holding her up.
"Good job spotting Jaboo and preventing what might have been a
monumental disaster. I'm sure the president will have something to
say about it."

"Any other agent would've done what I did,"
she said modestly.

"I'd rather put my trust in you."

Genevieve's lashes fluttered. "Is that
so?"

"Any complaints?"

All she could hear was the rapid beat of her
heart. "None whatsoever."

# # #

THE PHONE
CALL

The phone rang three times before Jennifer
Lane decided that her husband Peter was not going to answer it. She
thought that odd, considering it seemed like he was always on the
phone talking to business acquaintances practically from sunup to
sundown. What was different this time?

They were in bed, both reading books, which
seemed to be the preferred bedtime activity of late next to
sleep.

The phone went silent just before the call
went to voicemail.

Jennifer looked at Peter's handsome profile,
marred only by the glasses that hung haphazardly on his nose. "Why
didn't you answer it?"

He shrugged. "Figured they'd leave a message
if it was important. Obviously it wasn't."

She had no reason to disagree, though his
logic seemed to be selectively applied.

The phone rang again.

Peter made a halfhearted attempt to reach
for it, but Jennifer had already leaned over him and lifted the
phone from his nightstand.

"Hello."

"Peter?"

The breathy woman's voice sounded strangely
familiar, but Jennifer couldn't quite place it. "Can I tell him
who's calling?"

"Peter," the woman said again with a heavy
sigh.

Jennifer looked at the Caller ID. It
indicated the number was private and the caller unknown.

"Who is it?" Peter asked.

Jennifer wondered the same thing with more
than a little curiosity as she handed him the phone. "It's for
you."

He put the phone to his ear. "This is
Peter."

She watched the muscles in his face tense as
he said, "Jennifer who?"

Her first thought was that he didn't know
any other Jennifers. But clearly the caller knew him.

Peter's thick brows knitted. "Is this some
kind of joke?"

Jennifer certainly found no humor in the
idea that her husband might be having an affair with her
namesake.

"Since my wife is right here beside me, you
obviously aren't her. Now do us both a favor and don't call this
number again," he said angrily. Peter disconnected, but held onto
the phone.

Jennifer eyed him. "What was that all
about?"

"Hell if I know. Some woman, obviously high
or something, was trying to impersonate you, I think."

"You didn't recognize her voice?"

"No. It could've been anyone."

"But not just anyone would have our private
number."

Peter frowned as the phone rang again. He
hesitated.

"Answer it!" Jennifer insisted. "Let's see
what else this mysterious woman has to say. Or would you rather I
spoke to her?"

"Why don't we both listen in, just so you'll
know I have nothing to hide."

Jennifer wondered if she had overreacted.
She shot that down, knowing her husband had strayed once before.
She had forgiven him after he promised it would never happen
again.

Had he lied to her?

Peter put the call on speaker.

"Are you there, Peter...?" the caller
gasped.

"Who the hell is this?"

"Jennifer..."

He rolled his eyes. "My wife?"

"Yes, it's me..." the woman said.

Jennifer cocked a brow. She met her
husband's blank stare. Was this some code he and the woman had
cooked up to try and cover his tracks?

"This is ridiculous," Peter snorted. "You're
not my wife!"

"Why are you saying that?" the caller asked.
"I don't understand."

"You and me both. Look, did Bob put you up
to this or what?"

Bob Foxworth was Peter's best friend and the
one who Jennifer knew had helped her husband hide his previous
infidelity.

"I've been in an accident..." The woman
moaned eerily, causing Jennifer to shudder. "Carlson's Canyon...
Lost control of the car on rain slick road... It overturned..."

Carlson's Canyon was about ten miles from
their house in Lake Pearl, California. Over the years, it had
developed a bad reputation for its winding roads with no guardrails
and rugged landscape that, while breathtaking, could also be a
death trap for anyone unfortunate enough to run off the road in the
wrong spot. Carlson's Canyon had already claimed four lives that
year. Jennifer wondered if the woman really had been hurt. Maybe
delirium had set in, causing the misidentification.

Peter held no such sympathy. "Look, whoever
you are, whatever your problem is, it has nothing to do with
me."

Somehow Jennifer found solace in his hard
stance, even as suspicion gripped her like a fever. Was he truly in
the dark about who the caller was? Or was this just a clever act by
a clever man trying to cover his bases?

"Please, Peter...help me—" The woman's voice
grew weaker.

"I can't," he said, disconnecting the
call.

Jennifer stared at him. "You think it was a
crank call?"

"I have no idea. Who knows what was going on
in her head?"

"Maybe we should call 911?"

"And tell them what? That a woman claiming
to be you says she's been in an accident? I don't think so."

The strange call left Jennifer shaken. What
if the woman really had been in an accident and needed help? Had
Peter, in his attempt to disassociate himself with the caller, been
overly callous and indifferent to her pleas—no matter how
bizarre?

Admittedly, Jennifer had serious doubts
about the authenticity of the caller's plight. For one, she'd
indicated the car accident was due to a wet road caused by rain.
Problem was they were in the middle of a summer stretch where it
had not rained in more than a month. The forecast called for dry
weather for at least the next seven days.

That brought Jennifer back to her initial
suspicion. She glared at her husband. "Are you having an affair
with that woman?"

"No," he said sharply. "I can't believe
you'd even ask me that."

"Can't you? What am I supposed to think? A
woman calls
you
at night on our private number with some
cockamamie story. And you act like it's just someone who happened
to pick our number at random. I'm not buying it."

"So what do you want or expect me to say?
That I engineered the call just to hurt you again? I wouldn't do
that. I'd never hurt you again."

"I wish I could believe you." Jennifer met
his eyes, trying to erase the painful memories of discovering her
husband in bed with another woman. How could she be sure it wasn't
happening all over again?

"You can. I swear to you, Jenn, there is no
other woman in my life. I can't explain why she called or how she
got this number. Maybe it was just a sick joke."

Jennifer's instincts told her there was more
to this than a sick joke. But could she trust those feelings? Was
the frightening sound of the caller's anguished voice getting to
her?

Jennifer looked at her husband. "So what if
she was telling the truth about the accident?"

"Then someone's bound to find her sooner or
later," he said.

"But what if they don't?" Jennifer didn't
know what she hoped to achieve with this conversation of what ifs.
Should she really be concerned about something that probably hadn't
even happened? But what if the woman was in trouble and help didn't
arrive until it was too late? Could she ever forgive herself?

"It's not up to us to save the world," Peter
said. "I say we let it go."

"But maybe she called you for a reason."

"And what reason would that be?"

"I don't know. You tell me. I just don't
think she asked for
your
help out of the blue."

He sighed. "What can I do to convince you
that she's not my secret lover, or anyone else I know?"

Jennifer wasn't sure that he could convince
her. Women didn't call her husband at night as damsels in distress
without there being some motive other than the obvious. She could
have used the bizarre story as a way to get Peter to come to her
rescue. Or, in other words, out of the house and into her bed.

Of course Peter would distance himself from
it. He was very good at that. Deny, deny, deny. As if that in and
of itself would make this simply go away.

But with no proof, Jennifer could not really
accuse him of infidelity again. Maybe if she could talk to the
woman face to face, the truth would come out.

But where would she find her? Carlson's
Canyon was a good place to start.

Jennifer studied Peter's handsome face.
"Just forget the whole thing," she said.

"You sure?"

"I'd like to be. I just hope she doesn't
call anymore."

"Yeah, me too," he said.

Peter put the phone back on the nightstand
and turned out the light. Soon he was snoring softly while Jennifer
lay there thinking about the phone call.

* * *

A half an hour later, Jennifer slid from her
husband's arms. She quietly slipped into a robe and left the
room.

Downstairs, she cut the TV on just as the
weatherman was speaking.

"...A freak and violent storm has hit
several local areas including Bridge Bay and Carlson's
Canyon..."

Jennifer shivered at the thought. Had the
caller really skidded off the road and been trapped inside her car
in Carlson's Canyon?