Shooting Starr (23 page)

“Now you,” C.J. said grimly, half lifting, half shoving her toward the door. “I'm right behind you.”

He tried not to think about the body lying crumpled on the ground as he stepped over it.

He found Caitlyn waiting for him on the other side of the trailer, as far from Ski Mask as she could get. She was standing in the middle of wet, leaf-littered pavement, hugging herself and looking first up the road, then down, like a lost traveler. He went to her and without a word, folded her into his arms.

He held her for a while, not nearly as long as he wanted to, feeling the tremors she tried to hide. Until she drew away from him with a reluctant sniff.

“I guess you had to do that,” she said huskily. “I think he was going to kill you as soon as we got to— Oh, C.J.—” her voice broke “—why did you have to come back? Why couldn't you just—stop…trying…to
help
me, dammit!”

She pounded him once on his chest, then slipped away from him. Eluding him when he reached for her, she put a hand over her eyes. Her vision was still blurry, but she didn't need detail to recognize the shock and bewilderment in his face. She felt awful. Her heart hurt as though it were being torn in two.

“You set it up,” he said in a flat voice. “You and Jake Redfield. Right? You were hoping Vasily would make his
move. You were hoping to be kidnapped.” His laugh was a whisper without amusement. “And I…messed things up.”

Pain lanced through her; she cried out with it. “Oh, no! C.J., you were brilliant. Absolutely…completely…magnificent. I couldn't have imagined a more spectacular—” And she was crying, but laughing, too.

Then she was back where she wanted to be, in his arms again, and he was kissing her, wildly, recklessly, smearing both their mouths with her tears. She held him tightly, with all her strength, and felt the tremors he tried so valiantly to hide.

“It's just,” she whispered brokenly, “that now I have to worry about keeping you alive. I don't know what I'd do if—”

“Yeah, well, this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't tried to keep me out of it. If you hadn't lied—”

“I know, I know. I'm sorry. I swear I'll never do it again. It's just that you're so damn protective—”

“You damn right I'm protective. I
love
you, dammit!”

“Oh, C.J.,” she whispered. She pulled back from him and gazed, unfocused, into his face. “What are we going to do now?”

“Good question.” Looking past her, over her head, he added grimly, “This might be a good time to let me in on the plan.”

Caitlyn let out a slow breath. Her teeth had begun to chatter. It had stopped raining, but water and leaves fell with a noisy patter as the wind stirred the tops of the trees. “It's simple, really. We figured Vasily would try to kidnap me—he still thinks I know where his daughter is.”

“You mean…you don't?”

“No.” Her laugh was scared and breathy. “I don't. I know how to get in touch with the people who know, but I can't just…take him to where she is.”

“Oh, God.”

“It doesn't matter,” Caitlyn said quickly, over his agonized groan. “The plan was for me to pretend to know and then lead him into a trap—a fake safe house—where FBI agents would be waiting. C.J.—” At his angry hiss, she caught at his arms, and felt a strange thrill go through her at the strength, the coiled-spring tension in them. “C.J., listen—it would have been all right. Vasily wouldn't risk harming me as long as Emma's in hiding. I'm still his only hope of getting her back.”

“Yeah, well—” he cleared his throat with a low growling sound “—right now we have to worry about getting
us
back. I don't suppose you know where the cavalry is, right about now?”

“Staying well back out of the way, I should imagine. They're not going to risk scaring Vasily away.”

“Yeah…and speaking of Vasily…” He was once again directing his nervous and searching gaze beyond her. “I don't know how far away the rendezvous point was, but that truck made a good bit of noise jacking itself up like that. If they were anywhere nearby, there's a good possibility they heard it. No telling how much time we have before somebody comes to investigate. Do you have any way of contacting those FBI guys? No…guess not.” He sighed grimly. “Then I'd say—” He froze. So did she.

They both heard it at the same time: the roar of a powerful engine making its way toward them up the steep, winding road.

They took off running instinctively, like flushed quail. Caitlyn's thick-heeled dress shoes making scraping, clumping noises on the wet pavement. After a few steps they halted, clutching each other's arms, both talking at once, in panting gusts.

“Where's the gun?” C.J. wheezed.

At the same time Caitlyn was saying, “
You
go—it's me they want.”

There was a shocked pause. Caitlyn said, “Oh, no—I left it in the truck.”

And C.J. was yelling, “Are you
crazy?
”

They both halted again, breathing hard. Then C.J. said evenly, “I'm not leaving you here. Don't even think about it.”

Caitlyn was sobbing. “C.J., you're the one they'll kill!”

“Then I guess we'd better both get the hell out of here, hadn't we?” He gave her a halfhearted smile as he grabbed for her hand. She made a whimpering sound and resisted, only for an instant. “Cheer up,” he panted, “maybe it's the Feds.”

It wasn't. She knew it wouldn't be, even before she saw the hood of a gray sedan inching its way past the cab of the jackknifed truck, dark tinted windows reflecting jigsaw puzzle pieces of a pearly sky.

“We can't outrun them,” C.J. gasped. “If we can make it to the woods—”

But the laurel-and fern-covered banks rose high on both sides of the road, and it was at least fifty yards to a place where they might have been able to leave the road and lose themselves in the undergrowth. It might as well have been miles. C.J. could probably have made it, but he wouldn't leave her, and in her short skirt and clumsy, hard-soled shoes she didn't have a prayer.

The gray sedan throbbed softly and puffed out its warm breath like some great beast, its unhurried pace making it seem almost benign as it came up behind them. Accepting the inevitable, Caitlyn slowed to a limping walk, and after a moment C.J. did, too. The big car glided past them and halted just beyond. The rear door opened and a man stepped out and gestured silently to them with one hand.
In the other was a gun, held with the relaxed competence of one entirely comfortable with its use.

“I'm really starting to hate those things,” C.J. muttered as he ducked his head to climb into the back seat.

Caitlyn followed, groping involuntarily, her vision failing in the car's shadowy interior. She felt C.J.'s hand envelop hers, and the sick terror in her heart subsided…just a little.

That small comfort was short-lived. The gunman motioned her impatiently to move over, then wedged himself between her and C.J. She felt the barrel of the gun dig into her ribs as he reached across her to close the door.

Silence settled around the five people inside the car. Cold to the bone, C.J. found that his eyes were riveted on the man in the front passenger seat, the same way they'd have kept track of a coiled rattlesnake.

The man had turned in his seat and was observing them with a tight-lipped smile. Now he favored Caitlyn with a slight nod and said softly, “I am delighted to finally meet you, Miss Brown.” His voice, C.J. noted, was slightly accented, something vaguely Eastern European, he guessed. He would probably be considered a handsome man, with even, deeply tanned features and silver hair, thick, wavy and expensively groomed. For some reason he had on sunglasses with mirror lenses, in spite of the heavily overcast day.

He signaled the driver with a hand gesture, and the car began to glide forward. “As you probably have guessed, I am Ari Vasily. I have waited for this moment for…quite a long time. You have something that belongs to me, I believe. Or…perhaps I should say, you know where it may be found.” His lips parted to reveal rather large and very white teeth. “But before we get to that—might I ask what you have done with Lorenzo?”

“If you mean the guy who hijacked me,” C.J. said, “he didn't fare too well in the…accident.”

Vasily's sunglasses swiveled toward C.J., as if until that moment he'd considered him of little consequence. After an interminable moment, his mouth gave a twitch of vexation. “Ah, I see. A pity. Reliable employees are hard to find. Well—” the sunglasses shifted back to Caitlyn “—then we will get immediately to business. My dear Miss Brown—Caitlyn—you will, of course, tell me where they have been keeping my daughter. And quickly—I am certain the authorities will not be far away.” He sounded faintly amused by that, C.J. thought, as someone might observing the antics of a clumsy child.

Cold inside, Caitlyn stared at the shiny blur that was Ari Vasily's eyes. This was it—the moment she had been preparing herself for. Everything
—everything—
depended on whether or not she could carry it off.

She took a deep breath and did not have to try very hard to make her voice sound timid and afraid. “But I don't know where Emma is. I swear—”

A slight movement of Vasily's head interrupted her. He made a mild shame-on-you sound with his tongue. “Caitlyn…Caitlyn. Please don't waste our time. If you do not know precisely where my daughter is, you most certainly know how to contact those who do. I want that information, and will do whatever is necessary to obtain it—as quickly as possible. Do you understand?”

She couldn't answer. Her heart was beating too fast, and her tongue seemed to have stuck to the roof of her mouth.

After regarding her for a moment, Vasily shook his head and sighed. “You are correct in thinking I will not kill you, since that would defeat my purpose. There are, of course, numerous ways in which I can induce you to tell me what I want to know, without ever harming one hair of your pretty head. For example…” His voice was a thoughtful
purr. Caitlyn's skin shivered as if something unspeakable had crawled over it. “I know that you are a person who cares about other people…very much. You no doubt even care for this unfortunate fellow here—this truck driver who has had the bad judgment to interfere in my affairs.”

The sunglasses flicked toward the gunman sitting beside Caitlyn. With the casual indifference of one brushing at a fly, Vasily said, “Shoot him.”

C
aitlyn jerked as though she felt the impact of a bullet in her own flesh; her throat contracted in a high, sharp cry. “No—
wait
—please—” She didn't have to pretend the violent shudders that racked her body.

Vasily's hand flicked, and beside her she felt the gunman's body relax slightly. “Yes, Caitlyn?” Vasily purred. “You have changed your mind, perhaps? There is, after all, something you wish to tell me?”

“I…there is a safe house….” She could barely whisper. Her throat felt scoured and peppery. Her heart lumbered in her chest like a stampede, making it hard to breathe. “They would probably take her there. With everybody looking for her…it's the closest place. It's…not far from here, I think. Off the Blue Ridge Parkway. I don't know if I can find it…I was only there once….” Her babbling died for lack of air.

There was a thoughtful silence. Then Vasily turned back to the front of the car with a soft grunt. “For your trucker-friend's sake, I pray that you will find it. Dominic, if you please—”

Clammy and sick to her stomach, Caitlyn closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the seat. She couldn't bring herself to look at C.J. Her mind cried out to him in anguish.
Oh, C.J., I'm so sorry for getting you into this…please forgive me…I love you…I'm so sorry…forgive me….

The car wound steadily through the mountains, uphill then down, around hairpin curves and along breathless ridges. Ten more miles, maybe fifteen, Caitlyn told herself…the FBI would be ready…waiting. They'd take Vasily down. It would all be over.
It's going to be all right.

There was only one thing wrong with that reasoning. The agents lying in wait at the safe house would be expecting only one hostage, one Vasily had good reason not to harm. They hadn't counted on C.J.

C.J., I'm sorry…I love you….

“Turn here.” The voice was a whip-crack in the silent car.

Caitlyn sat bolt upright. Adrenaline surged through her body as the car swerved sharply to the right onto a paved crossroad. “Why are we turning here?” she gasped. “The parkway—”

“Is a trap, of course,” Vasily said in a chillingly conversational tone as the car sped along the gently winding road. He turned in his seat, the sunglasses homing in on her like the eyes of some great predatory insect. “Isn't it, Caitlyn? Did you really think I would fall for such an obvious plot? I have not gotten to where I am by being stupid. Now—let us go back to the beginning and try this again. Sean—your gun, please.”

Her mouth opened. Words froze in her throat as the man beside her silently handed his gun to Vasily. She watched in horror as it swung in a short, efficient arc until it was pointing at C.J.

“Now then, Caitlyn—one more time. Where is my daughter?”

“I don't know!” Caitlyn sobbed. “It's the truth. I don't—”

The explosion in that enclosed space was shocking. On its echoes, Caitlyn's scream merged in awful harmony with the agonized sound C.J. made as he doubled over, clutching at his thigh. Numb in mind and body, Caitlyn reached for him, throwing herself across the gunman—Sean's—lap. A hand grabbed her by the hair and jerked her roughly back.

“Now, then,” Vasily said softly. “The next bullet will, I assure you, be in a more important spot. So, I ask you again—where are you keeping my daughter?”

“I'll tell you. I
will,
” said Caitlyn hoarsely, lifting a shaking hand to her nose. “But you're going to have to turn around. You're going the wrong way.”

Funny thing—except for her concern for C.J., she no longer felt the slightest bit afraid. Rage had wiped her mind clear. She knew she had to stall for time, make Vasily believe she really was taking him to Emma's hiding place. All she needed was enough time to allow the agents monitoring the tracking device in her belt buckle to realize, since they were now going in the wrong direction, that the plan had gone awry, and to move in.

Yes. All she needed was time. But how much time did C.J. have? Vasily wouldn't hesitate to kill him—in an instant. But even without another bullet, he was bleeding badly. In utter silence, he lay slumped against the far door, still clutching his thigh with both hands, while blood welled in an unstoppable flood between his fingers. His face was the color of the clouds outside the windows of the car.

After the first glance, she couldn't bring herself to look at him again.

The car lurched and jerked in a clumsy U-turn, then accelerated, careening back down the mountain road at a stomach-churning speed. A low groan came from C.J.'s side of the car.

“I'm going to be sick,” Caitlyn announced in a tight voice. She wasn't kidding; she'd always had a tendency to get carsick. At the same time, a desperate plan was forming in the back of her mind. “I mean it—I have to throw up. Pull over—
pull over!
”

The authenticity of her plea was unmistakable, even to Vasily. He made a small hand gesture, and the car rolled to a stop. Caitlyn pounded on the door with her fists until she heard the lock release. Then, grasping the door handle she gave it a mighty push and lunged just in the nick of time into open air.

Empty, drained…she felt weak in the vicinity of her middle, but oddly, at the same time, stronger in mind and body than she'd ever been in her life.

As though from a distance, she heard herself say with utter calm, “I'll be all right if I can just walk around a little. Is it okay if I get out for a minute?”

Vasily jerked his head toward Sean. “Go with her.” His voice was tight with disgust.

As though from a distance, she saw herself standing near the car. Her back was to it, as she drew in long breaths of cool, damp air. Behind her, Sean was stooped over as he emerged from the open door. The gun was back in his hand.

From that same great distance she saw herself whirl, and the gun go spinning through the air. She didn't feel the impact of her foot against the side of Sean's head, but she heard it—a wet, sickening
smack.

As she lunged for the gun, as she picked it up from the ground and felt the still-warm weight of it in her hand, distance suddenly telescoped. Back in her body again, dazed and shaking, she heard confusing and alarming sounds coming from inside the car.

“Calvin!” she screamed, and was lurching toward the open door when he came tumbling headfirst through it, half
crawling, half falling. Beyond him through the open door she could see, silhouetted against the driver's-side window, the head of the driver, Dominic, slumped forward over the steering wheel. She realized then that one of the alarming sounds she'd been hearing was the blaring of the car's horn.

“Come on out, Vasily,” she yelled, gripping the gun with both hands as she aimed it at the tinted window. “It's over. The FBI is on its way.”

Then she watched, openmouthed, as the driver's-side door suddenly opened. Dominic's body rolled sideways and disappeared. The car leaped forward, slamming both open doors with its forward momentum. It roared away down the winding road, leaving Caitlyn standing, swaying, among three inert bodies.

Sobbing, she dropped to her knees beside one of them. “C.J., you idiot,” she whispered as she gathered his head into her lap. “What did you have to go and do that for? Why are you always trying to help me? If you bleed to death, what am I going to do? Huh? Answer me that…you…you… What will I ever do without you?”

C.J. looked up through patches of blackness and saw silver eyes gazing down into his. Silver eyes…shining with tears.

“Oh, Lord…if you're crying, I guess I must be dying,” he said in a thickened croak. “Either that or you must love me.”

“Well, you're not dying!” Caitlyn shouted.

Smiling the famous Starr smile, complete with dimples, C.J. closed his eyes. In the distance, sirens were wailing.

Mid-November—Grand Central Station, New York City

“It's almost two,” C.J. said. His voice was tight and gruff with nervousness. “The e-mail said two o'clock. I don't see her. You don't think—”

“She'll be here,” Caitlyn said, glancing at him. “Are you okay? Maybe you ought to sit down—”

“I'm
okay.
” He shifted irritably. He hadn't been out of the hospital all that long, but he was already sick and tired of people fussing over him. He'd be glad when he could throw away the damn cane—that would help. He gave it a defiant little wave to demonstrate that he was only using it to please her, but the truth was, he still had to lean on it a lot more than he liked.

“This place is huge,” he muttered, glancing superstitiously over his shoulder at the two women following at a discreet distance behind them—his lawyer, Charly, and the tall, gaunt black woman with her, Mrs. Gibson, from Florida Social Services. This moment seemed a miracle to him already, but he couldn't get rid of the fear in his heart. So much had happened to get him to this place, and so much still had to happen before he would consider the people he loved safe again. Vasily was being held without bail, his empire was being dismantled and unraveled piece by piece…but still.

“There she is,” Caitlyn said softly. She gave his hand a squeeze and began to move toward the child sitting all by herself in a long row of seats.

He didn't recognize her at first. Not until she looked up to see who it was that was stopping to speak to her, calling her by a half-forgotten name. Her hair was brown, not black, and long on her shoulders, the bangs pulled to one side and fastened with a plastic clip. But there was no mistaking those eyes. Frightened eyes…dark as pools. Refugee eyes. He felt an odd little kick in his heart. A remembered tremor under his ribs.

“Hello, Emma,” Caitlyn said, as she sat on the edge of the seat next to her. “I'm Caitlyn—remember me?”

The little girl nodded. Her eyes slid past Caitlyn. She
glanced fearfully at C.J., then asked in a small voice, “Where's Myrna? She told me to wait right here. She said we were going to Disney World.”

“That's right. C.J. and I are going to take you to Disney World. But Myrna can't come, sweetie—I'm sorry.”

“Why not?” The big eyes shimmered with impending tears.

“She has to go away, Emma,” Caitlyn said gently. “She can't be with you anymore.”

“Like my mommy?”

Caitlyn hesitated, then nodded. “Sort of, yeah.”

Emma sniffed. Her bewildered eyes lifted again. “Then who's going to take care of me?”

“We are,” Caitlyn said. “C.J. and me.” Her groping hand found C.J.'s and drew him closer. “You remember C.J., don't you?” Emma gazed up at him in unblinking silence.

He looked back at her, hollow with nervousness and a kind of fear he'd never felt before. Then he shifted the cane to his other hand so he could open the plastic shopping bag he'd been carrying. The bag had the name FAO Schwarz printed on it. He opened it and took something out—a small figure of a little girl with superpowers and huge black eyes. He heard a tiny hitch of indrawn breath. “I don't know which one this is,” he said gruffly. “Guess you're gonna have to tell me.”

A small hand reached slowly. The black eyes widened, then lifted once more to C.J.'s. He nodded, and with a sudden, swift movement, she took the toy from him and clasped it to her narrow chest. She hitched herself forward in the chair and stood up, at the same time reaching for his hand.

C.J.'s heart trembled when he felt the warm little hand burrow into his, like a baby animal into its nest.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Emma was looking at his cane.

C.J. cleared his throat and managed to mutter, “Yeah…a little bit.”

“Are you going to get well?”

“Oh, yeah,” said C.J. He was still looking into Caitlyn's eyes. “I'm going to be fine.”

“Then I guess it'll be okay,” said Emma. She looked up at him, and for the first time ever, he saw her smile. “You have to walk an awful lot at Disney World, you know.”

C.J. didn't think of himself as macho, but he wasn't all that crazy about the idea of weeping in public, either. Panic-stricken, he looked over at Caitlyn. She was smiling at him, her eyes silvery and overflowing with all the love a man could ever wish for.

“We'd better be going, then,” she said, picking it up from there. “It's a long way to Disney World.”

“After that where will we go?” Emma asked, uncertain again.

“Home,” C.J. said gruffly, still looking at Caitlyn. He was thinking of his wish, his impossible dream, and the miracle that had granted it to him.
Or…Providence?

Caitlyn's eyes softened, and so did her smile. “Yes, home,” she said. “You've got those bar exams to study for. And…we've got a wedding to plan.”