Passion's Fury (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 2) (32 page)

“We don’t even know what kind of car he’s driving,” Ash muttered.

“Well, I doubt he’s driving his own car.  If he’s smart, and he obviously is, he would’ve ditched it and paid cash for a different one.”

Simon slammed the heel of his hand on the hood of Caleb’s car.  “God!  I feel so fucking helpless!”  He looked at his older brother, unable to hide the worry prowling in his eyes.  “Why are we just standin’ around here when every tick of the clock takes her farther and farther away from us?”

“There are at least a dozen roads leading out of the area,” Caleb pointed out.  “And only three of us.  Which roads do you suggest we take?  What kind of car should we be looking for?”

A growl erupted from Simon’s throat, like the cry of a wounded animal, and he braced himself on the hood of the car, his head hanging down   “I’m sorry, bro,” Caleb’s voice broke.  “I-I’m just as scared as you are.  I feel like my insides are bein’ ripped apart.  But we can’t go harin’ off all over the countryside just because you’ve got a wild hair up your ass.  We’ve got to approach this like any other op.  With our heads and not our hearts.” His vibrating phone clattered against the metal car, startling all three of them.  Caleb immediately punched Talk.  “Yo, Jason.  Whatcha got for us?”

“Okay,” Jason Ingram’s voice was clipped, all business.  “The news is not good, I’m afraid.  His personal vehicle was found ditched on a side street in South Philly.  So, whatever he’s driving, he must have paid cash for it.  There has been no activity on his credit cards since Tuesday, but that’s not surprising.  He emptied out his bank accounts yesterday, over seventy thousand dollars, so he’s paying cash for everything.  I couldn’t find any property either bequeathed to John Bullard, purchased by John Bullard or leased by John Bullard.  There is a small house near Hanover, PA, south of Harrisburg that was left to Lenora Righetti
Bullard by her grandparents.  I’ve hacked into a satellite feed and have that property under surveillance.  So far, no activity.  But, Caleb?”

Caleb’s heart sank. 
Uh-oh.  More bad news. 
“Yeah?”

“I can’t see him going there, especially if he still has Kylie.  I mean, if the media are camped out at his home, it’s entirely conceivable that Bullard’s wife would want someplace to hide out for a while.  I don’t think Bullard would want to risk his wife walking in on whatever he’s planning to do to Kylie.”

“Shit!”

“Wait, Caleb,” Ash said, excitement in his voice.  “Didn’t Thomas Dwyer say that Bullard went all through school with his step-father’s name?  That he didn’t go back to the name Bullard until after graduation?  Fuck!  What was it?”

“He didn’t say!” Simon had caught his brother’s excitement and was fishing around in his jeans pocket for his wallet.  He extracted Thomas Dwyer’s business card, grabbed his phone and dialed the number, putting it on speaker.

“Hang on, Jason,” Caleb said as the line was picked up.

“Dwyer.”

“Bullard’s got Kylie.”

“
What? Fuck!”
The agent’s shock came clearly through the connection.  “How did
that
happen?”

“You said he had a different name in school.  We need to know what it was.  We’re hoping he might own property under that name.”

Dwyer conferred briefly with someone they assumed was his partner, Roscoe Sweeney, then came back with, “Cavaletti.  His stepfather’s name was Paul Cavaletti.”

“Did you hear that, Jason?” Caleb asked.

“I’m on it,” Jason said briskly.  “Just gimme a minute, okay?”

“You got it.”

While Jason was keying in the latest information, Simon and Ash briefed the two FBI agents.

“Okay, boys and girls, it seems we’ve hit the jackpot.”  Jason’s voice was filled with glee.  “Ten years ago, Paul Cavaletti bequeathed a property, a hunting cabin west of Harrisburg on the edge of the Tuscarora State Forest, to one John Cavaletti.  It sits on fifteen hundred acres and is the only dwelling for miles.  It’s perfect!  And I can keep my eye on both places using the same satellite.”

There was an audible sigh as everyone sagged in relief.  “Great work, Jason.  We owe you—big-time.”

“And I’m gonna insist on collecting, too,” he laughed.

“Bullard just left here, so it will be a while before he gets to his target destination.  He’s probably sticking to back roads.  You let us know the instant you spot a car approaching either place.”

“Copy that.  What are
you
gonna do?” Jason asked.

Caleb looked up at Simon and Ash, who were hanging on every word.  “We’re gonna fly to Harrisburg and wait for you to tell us where he is.”

Jason chuckled.  “Now
that’s
a plan.  Let me know the minute you land, okay?”

“You got it.”  Caleb thumbed the phone off.

“We’ll meet you there,” Dwyer said over Simon’s phone.  “We want him as badly as you do.”

“Good,” Caleb said.  “Ash or Simon will text you with our ETA.”

“Thanks.  Dwyer out.”

Caleb hunched his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pants pockets.  “You two go get the plane ready.  I’ll meet you there in about an hour.”

“Where
you
goin’?” Simon asked.

“Shoppin’.”  Caleb walked around to the driver’s side of the Land Rover and opened the door before looking back at his brothers.  He knew they were expecting him to carry off this miracle.  His throat closed up.  “We’re gonna get her back.”

Ash and Simon gave him two thumbs up.  The three of them climbed into their separate cars and drove off.

* * * *

Caleb and Ash had just finished unloading the Gulfstream when the silver Escalade they’d sent Simon to rent drove toward them across the tarmac.  The minute Simon emerged from the driver’s seat, Ash tossed a heavy duffle bag toward him, startling a loud “Oof!” out of him as he caught it, staggering backward a couple of steps.  “Jesus Christ, Caleb!  What did you go shopping
for
?
 
Cannon balls?”

“Just stow it in the back,” was all Caleb said, lifting another duffle bag and tossing it to Ash, who waited until Simon had opened the back lift gate before passing it on to him.  In this way they loaded all five duffle bags full of the stuff that Caleb had secured both from his office and from the private arsenal they had in their home.  Simon closed the gate and they all turned to look as a Pennsylvania State Police cruiser pulled up to them and rolled to a stop.  A good-looking man in his mid-thirties emerged and approached Caleb with his hand out.

“Hank!”  Caleb’s smile was beaming as he took the outstretched hand and pulled the other man in for a quick hug.  He pulled back and swept his arm out indicating Simon and Ash.  “These are my brothers, Simon and Ash.  Guys, this is Hank Graham, an old buddy of mine.  He was San Diego PD durin’ my SEAL trainin’ days.  We met at a cop bar.”

Hank Graham just stood there staring at the three Rafferty brothers, scratching the back of his head.  “My God, Caleb, when you said identical, you weren’t just blowing smoke up my ass, were you?  Simon.  Ash.”  He shook both their hands as a second, younger trooper emerged from the patrol car and approached.  “This is my partner, Lou Giordano,” Hank said, introducing him to the three Raffertys.   As they all exchanged greetings, Hank looked back at Caleb.  “Any sign of your guy yet?”

“Not yet.  But he’ll show, sooner or later,” Caleb said, his voice filled with a confidence he was far from feeling.  What if he was wrong?  What if John Bullard decided to just kill Kylie and dump her body by the side of the road some place out in the middle of nowhere, where they’d never find her.  The thought filled him with an icy dread so heavy and painful, he was afraid he was having a coronary.  For a long moment he simply couldn’t breathe.  Finally able to draw in enough air to support his voice, he said, “We’ve got eyes in the sky that will tell us the minute he arrives at one place or another.  Personally, my money is on the cabin in the Tuscarora State Forest.  The other property belongs to his wife, and considering the upheaval she must be experiencing in her life right now, she might want to escape to some secluded place far away from the prying eyes of the media.  Her grandparents’ house would be ideal.  I doubt that Bullard would risk the chance of running into her.”

But what if you’re wrong?
That niggling little voice in the back of his mind taunted him.  The fear in his gut gnawed at him.  He forced himself to ignore both.  He couldn’t afford to be wrong.  Kylie’s life and their entire future depended on his being right.  The vision of life without her was a bleak one that didn’t bear contemplating.  He
had
to be right.  For all their sakes.  The alternative was just too horrible to think about.

Hank Graham eyed all the duffle bags piled in the rear of the Escalade.  “You expecting World War III?” he joked.

“Just prepared for it in case it decides to break out.”

“How’re you planning to get inside?”

Caleb grimaced.  “As fast as possible.”

“You’ve got, what, armor, det cord, flash bangs, NVG’s?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Well.”  Hank held out his hand, an object dangling from his fingertips.  “Bet you don’t have any of this.”

Caleb laughed, a short, mirthless bark.  “Duct tape?  Fuckin’ duct tape?”

Hank just shrugged and grinned.  “Sometimes low-tech is best for the job.  What if you have to break a window for a silent entry?”

Caleb took the roll of tape, shaking his head ruefully.  “Can’t believe I didn’t think of it.”

Another car drove up, a black Ford Excursion.  Tom Dwyer and Roscoe Sweeney, wearing armored vests and navy blue windbreakers with FBI in big yellow letters on the back, got out and approached them.  Everyone shook hands.  Then Dwyer said, “Since Bullard will be violating federal law by bringing Ms. Ferrell across state lines we will make the arrest.  He’ll be arraigned in Federal court for kidnapping and unlawful imprisonment, as well as all the RICO charges against him.  The state of Pennsylvania will get him next, and finally you can have him, Rafferty.”

“I don’t care who gets him,” Caleb said.  “I’ll be happy if he never sees the light of day again.”

“C’mon,” Hank said, “There’s a nice little Italian restaurant just up the road.  We have time to grab a bite to eat and come up with a plan before you hear from your friend.  The cabin you think he’s going to is around forty-seven miles from here, give or take, and we’ll give you an escort.  Shouldn’t take more than around 20 minutes or so.  We’ll hold back while you infiltrate and come in at your signal.”

Caleb grinned.  “You mean, you’ll let us do all the work while you get all the glory.”

Hank just tugged at his ear, his grin matching Caleb’s.  “Something like that.”

* * * *

Goddamn fucking bitch!  She’s trying to kick out the fucking taillights! 
Grinding his teeth so hard it was a wonder they hadn’t crumbled to dust, John Bullard shoved the Camry into Park and slammed out of the door, heading around to the trunk.  Pressing the button on the fob, he released the latch and stood, legs apart, holding his Glock in a standard two-handed grip.

As soon as Kylie heard the click of the latch, she rose up on her hands, preparing to launch herself out of the trunk well.  But at the sight of that ugly black gun pointing directly at her, she froze.

“On your belly, hands behind your back!” he snarled.  She barely had time to do so before Bullard surged forward and yanked her head up by her hair.  When she opened her mouth to shriek with pain, he shoved an old cloth inside, making her gag.  He secured it with a strip of duct tape that caught the eyelashes of her left eye, forcing her to keep it closed or risk ripping her lashes out.  He also wrapped strips of duct tape around her wrists and ankles, rendering her immobile.

“Now you listen to me and you listen to me good.  If I have to come back here again, you’re going to be one sorry-ass bitch.  So settle back and enjoy the ride.”  His grin was pure evil.  “I guarantee it’s going to be the
last
thing you enjoy.”  He slammed the lid and stalked back to the driver’s seat, peeling out with a squeal of tires that left two rubber strips on the concrete parking pad behind whatever store this was in this little strip mall he’d pulled behind.  He’d taken so many back roads in his torturous, circuitous route through the mountains of Virginia, West Virginia and western Pennsylvania, that what should have been a three-and-a-half-hour trip, tops, had already taken five hours.  It would be getting dark soon.  And he still had another good hour left to go.  Then he could take his time with little Miss Kylie Fuckin’ Ferrell.  Until it was time to put an end to both their lives.

* * * *

“Caleb!”  Jason’s excited voice came over the speaker before Caleb could even say hello.  “He’s at the Hanover house!  A car just pulled into the driveway!”

“Are you shittin’ me?” Caleb was stunned.  He’d felt sure Bullard would have gone to the other, more secluded house.  “Can you tell the make or model of the car?”

“Looks like it might be an SUV, but I’m not sure.  Okay.  Hold on, it’s pulling up in front of the house.  Door’s opening.  Shit.  It’s a woman.  Wait, she’s going around to the passenger door.  She just picked up a paper sack full of groceries.  No one else in the car.  Sorry, man.  Must be the wife.”