Authors: Christine Feehan
Water Bound (48 page)
Jonas took his time, thoroughly examining the area, taking a series of photographs, collecting the water in several places into small tubes and then taking bits of the burned grass.
“You said you saw him?” Jonas prompted, crouching beside Lev to touch his fingers to the water once again.
“He was tall but fairly slight. His tracks indicate maybe one-sixty or one-seventy. He moved fast though, and he’s strong. He had a flamethrower on his back and he must have packed in the gasoline. He’s had a lot of practice. By the time I was aware of him, he’d run around the house.” And that meant the owls had gone hunting and hadn’t discovered the arsonist until they’d returned. That had been his mistake and it could have cost all of them their lives. He couldn’t allow himself to get so lost in Rikki that he put aside his survival instincts.
“How did he get the fire going so fast? The ground had to have been soaked from the previous storms. Even with an accelerant...” Jonas broke off, shaking his head.
“You’re married to a Drake. I have to presume you know about manipulating energy.”
Jonas stood up and paced away from Lev, using his flashlight to pick up the smashed grass where the arsonist had run through on his way back to the ridge. “Keep talking.”
“He’s an element. He manipulates fire.”
Jonas stiffened but he didn’t reply, following the tracks up toward the ridge. The slope was slippery and several puddles of water stood full and unexpected. Jonas walked back and forth, taking in the longer strides, and the sudden halt, where the assailant had whirled to fire his weapon. The sheriff spent a great deal of time taking more pictures and locating the spent shell casings, carefully collecting them as well.
“Looks like a dam broke,” Jonas commented as he skirted around two of the larger puddles. “Where did all this water come from?”
“We were lucky. It rained.”
Jonas glanced at the clouds. “It didn’t rain in Sea Haven or at our house, just a few miles from here. The mist is thick, but not enough to create this kind of flooding.”
He was fishing. A good tactic, but Lev was comfortable with silence and said nothing.
Jonas sighed. “Do you want to catch this asshole or not? You have to tell me everything.”
“What does a hard rain have to do with catching him?” Lev countered. “And I could catch him myself. His tire tracks are all over the place. He works with fire. His face is messed up and requires stitches. He comes from the same city as Rikki. And he’s in your town. I’ll bet he’s not that hard to find.”
Jonas crouched again, this time finding the spot where the owls had attacked the arsonist. There were spots of blood in the wet grass, but not as much as Lev thought there would be. The rain had stamped out the fire, but it had also destroyed evidence. Jonas searched the ground, moving first in a tight circle, and then widening it slowly. He found two feathers and several spent cartridges. All of it went into evidence bags and then he added several scrapings of the blood. Again, he took his time, very thoroughly going over the ground.
“What the hell was he shooting at? You? Or the birds?”
“He fired off a few rounds at me, both from here and back there.” Lev turned to indicate the spot where the assailant had stood. “Then he was shooting at the owls.”
“The ones that attacked him.” There was open skepticism in Jonas’s voice.
“I don’t carry spare owl feathers in my pocket,” Lev said.
“Yeah. I’ll bet you don’t. I’d like to know what you do carry there,” Jonas muttered, under his breath, once more crouching low and shining his light over the ground. “He went up that way to the road. There are drops of blood scattered along his trail.” He placed the measuring tool and took several pictures of the shoe prints in the mud.
“He prefers that spot over there,” Lev pointed out. “He can see Rikki’s house and has a great view of her back porch, where she likes to spend most of her time when she has company.”
“He’s sheltered here,” Jonas said, circling the area, shining his light over the ground.
Lev let him find the small blackened area where the arsonist had idly played while watching Rikki. Jonas spent another few minutes placing markers and photographing everything, concentrating on the pattern the arsonist had created.
“He’s sure of himself, isn’t he?” Jonas commented.
“Not anymore.”
“No,” Jonas agreed. He sighed and straightened, turning to face Lev. “Now he’s going to be angry. He’ll go to ground for a while, until he’s healed, but when he comes back, he’s going to go for the money play this time.”
Lev wondered if the sheriff knew what that would be. The arsonist would be afraid to approach Rikki’s house with the owls playing guard. He would go for her boat. Rikki loved her boat and whether or not he got her with that fire, taking her boat would hurt her. And the arsonist definitely wanted to hurt her—to make her suffer.
“How does she escape?” Jonas wondered aloud. “He’s got to be furious over that. How many times has she slipped away from him? And who hates a child that much?”
“Another child.”
Jonas stopped abruptly and turned on Lev. “What the hell did you just say?”
Lev shrugged. “You asked who hates a child that much? Not an adult. What adult could harbor that kind of concentrated hatred for a thirteen-year-old girl? Especially one who is autistic? This has to be a personal attack. It’s directed at Rikki. Not at the foster families or even her fiance. This is about wiping her from the earth. Cleansing the earth, so to speak.”
“Maybe someone who targets autistic children?” Jonas mused. “I’ll check the other fires in the past, see if any of the families have children who might be autistic.”
Lev nodded in approval. “Good idea. Although ...” He trailed off.
“Spit it out,” Jonas took pictures of the prints leading up to the road and the tread marks of the tires in the mud. “Any idea is worth listening to.”
“It feels personal to me. He’s seething with hatred for her. Not just any child. Rikki. He wants her dead. Otherwise, why select houses that were empty when he was practicing, when he couldn’t find her? Why not just select another autistic child?”
Jonas’s frown conceded the point.
An owl cried out, drawing Lev’s attention. He glanced overhead and two owls circled above, wings silent as they dropped lower.
“Friends of yours?” Jonas asked.
Lev didn’t answer. The owls pushed the image of water and rocking boats into his head and he took off running. Jonas kept pace.
“Tell me,” he snarled. “I’m not joking around with you. This is my town. My people.”
“He’s at the harbor.”
“You armed?”
“Yes. And Levi Hammond has a permit to carry a concealed weapon.”
Jonas spat out another curse and waved Lev toward his vehicle. “I’m calling for backup. Don’t shoot the bastard. I mean it,
Levi.
You’ll create a tangled mess just when you don’t want one. Let me do the shooting if there has to be any. You sure as hell can’t afford to draw attention to yourself with a cleaner in town.”
Levi.
You’ll create a tangled mess just when you don’t want one. Let me do the shooting if there has to be any. You sure as hell can’t afford to draw attention to yourself with a cleaner in town.”
“You going to hesitate?”
Jonas glanced at him briefly, face grim, mouth set, eyes hard. He turned his head and backed out of the driveway, spinning the wheel with one hand while reaching for his radio with the other. “Which harbor?”
“Albion.”
Yeah. Jonas Harrington could and would pull the trigger. Lev could see why Ilya had befriended this man. He was fiercely loyal, not afraid to take command, and he would get the job done, no matter how abhorrent. But he’d feel it. He’d go to bed at night with it. A measure of respect crept in.
“So how many shots am I going to have to take to live here?” It was a concession. The only one he could give. He knew what he’d do to any man who had anything to do with harming Rikki. He might not have been able to understand had he not met her. They were on the highway, lights flashing, sirens blaring. “Maybe we should go in quietly and not tip him off. Just a suggestion.”
“Just clearing the way. I’ll cut the lights and siren before we turn off the highway.”
“I see the heavy traffic,” Lev said. There wasn’t a car on the road.
Jonas sent him a look. One. Lev repressed the urge to laugh. Jonas was trying very hard not to like him, but the man had a sense of humor. If Lev was going to do this, convince this man that he meant to stay and live in peace, he had to trust his brother’s judgment and give Harrington a reason to trust him. It wasn’t easy. He was a man who kept secrets close to his chest and certainly didn’t share with strangers—American strangers. He took a breath and jumped off the cliff.
“The government secrets I was referring to earlier weren’t only being siphoned off by my government, but yours as well. Three countries I knew of. Someone went after one of your big thinkers, a man named Wilder. Damon Wilder. Tried to kidnap him, killed his partner. Word is, Wilder’s still working and whatever he’s been designing they want.”
Out of the corner of his eye he caught Harrington’s reaction. To the name? To his knowledge? Jonas didn’t look at him, but his body posture had changed subtly and he was definitely listening, paying attention.
“We have the equivalent to your Wilder. A man by the name of Theodotus Solovyov. His bodyguard, a man by the name of Gavriil Prakenskii, was severely wounded, stabbed seven times while preventing a kidnapping. He was able to prevent them from getting Solovyov, but he was permanently injured. He was forced to retire, to take on a new identity in order to stay alive.”
There was a short silence.
“So going after Stavros and finding who he was working for...”
“Partners with,” Lev corrected.
Jonas nodded. “It’s personal. Another brother?”
“We don’t get retirement like other people. We’re part of a shameful past. No one quite knows what to do with us. It’s easier to kill us than to wonder if we would ever expose the past and the secrets we carry. They do not trust us, yet in our way, we are all patriots. We love our country. This information I’ve given you on Theodotus Solovyov is hardly a state secret. It’s public and was in the newspaper, as was the attack on Wilder. With a little work, it is easy enough to find.”
“Do you know where Gavriil is?”
That information would never be shared. They’d set up an emergency signal when they’d met, passing it from brother to brother. Gavriil had checked in. When he knew he was safe, Lev would check in as well. He remained silent and Jonas didn’t push.
“Jackson is one scary son of a bitch,” Jonas offered in return. “Kind of like you. He’ll have a few things to say. He’s damn good with a sniper rifle. I’ve seen him make shots only one or two others in the world could make. You don’t want to be looking over your shoulder waiting for him to come up on you. He’s got patience. He’ll bide his time. Make it right with him.”
Lev breathed an internal sigh of relief. Harrington had accepted him enough to give him a chance.
“He’s on his honeymoon and he’ll be gone for a while. He plans to take Elle on a long trip to give her more time to recover before she returns home to be part of Sea Haven again. That should give the rest of the family a little time to get used to the idea of you being around.”
It was both acceptance and a warning. “I’m not going anywhere. Rikki needs Blythe and her other sisters. She needs her diving and this coast. It all works for her here.” He made it a statement. Calm. Matter-of-fact. Without defiance. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness or acceptance, only to be left alone. He had Rikki and her world, and he fit there.
Jonas cut the lights and siren about a half mile before he came up on the turn to the harbor where the eucalyptus trees stood in silence, swaying slightly in the wind coming off the ocean. They barreled down the long, winding hill and through the short park to the entrance of the harbor, the spotlight illuminating Rikki’s boat and the man with one foot on the dock and one on the
Sea
Gypsy.
Sea
Gypsy.
He turned and ran back toward them. The spotlight pinned him, revealing the deep wounds covering his furious face. He held a gun in his hands, attached to a flexible pipe leading to the three canisters making up the rig on his back. He sprayed the car with flames, engulfing it immediately in bright-hot heat. For a moment they were in hell, the air sucked from inside, the scorching fire burning over the car and along the ground. Visibility went to zero, only the flames surrounding them, climbing up and over the vehicle.
“Shit!” Jonas slammed on the brakes, jerking the wheel away from the spray of fire. The car spun, dirt and rocks flying high into the air, but at least they were able to breathe.
Bullets tore into the front of the car and cracked the glass of the windshield, a neat hole appearing just to the right of Lev and spiderwebbing outward across the entire glass. Both men ducked and Jonas shoved open his door, diving to the ground away from the flames, rifle in hand. Lev tore off his seatbelt and followed, crawling on his belly across the seat to get to the open door as more bullets tore through the car.
Jonas returned fire, trying to provide Lev with some cover, spraying his bullets through the fire in a straight pattern. Their assailant was on the move, running up the hillside, spreading flames as he went. He set the night on fire, uncaring of the homes or the landscape. Dozens of fires started up and there was no Rikki to call down the rain from the clouds overhead.
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