Desperate Deeds Page 8

And then, there was the secret compartment. When she was little, her grandmother had showed it to her, and she’d thought it better than anything in a Nancy Drew novel. And when her grandmother died, and she’d inherited the secretary, she’d put the compartment to good use. The perfect place for cherished memories of her mother.

  She pushed off the bed, crossing over to open the box. Everything inside was just where it should be. Old friends treasured from the past. She ran her hand along the smooth wood, and then with a flick of her finger released the catch that held the bottom in place. Carefully lifting the tray from the box, she braced herself. It was always difficult to see her mother’s things. Although there wasn’t much. After she died, her father had tried to exorcise her from their lives. But Tyler had managed to save a few things. A gold locket, a dog-eared photograph, and the blue scarf.

  Except that the scarf wasn’t there.

  Her heart lurched as she searched the box again. There was no sign of the scarf. She frowned, trying to remember when she’d last seen it. It had been months, perhaps even a year, but it had most definitely been there. And she never took it out. She didn’t really like touching it. As though by association, it still reeked of death and desperation. But even so, she hadn’t been able to let it go.

  And now it was gone.

  Her throat tightened as her mind’s eye rolled out images of the Colorado roadside and the scarf floating on the breeze. It had been the last thing she’d seen before passing out. But some part of her had assumed that it was a trick of her mind, past and present merging together. No one else had mentioned seeing it.

  But now, staring down into the empty compartment, she wasn’t so sure.

  A noise from downstairs penetrated her whirling thoughts, and she dropped the photo she was holding, reaching into a drawer for her gun. This time she was certain of what she’d heard. There was someone inside the house.

  She stepped into the hallway, careful to keep her back to the wall, and began to move forward. At the top of the stairs, she stopped, flipping off the light, listening for something to give her an indication of where the intruder might be. But the house was quiet again, and for a moment, she doubted herself. Then somewhere out toward the kitchen, she heard another sound.

  Gripping her gun, she carefully worked her way downstairs, moving through the foyer into the living room. Ahead of her, just beyond the open French doors, she heard footsteps against the tile. She swung out into the room, gun at the ready.

  “One more step and I shoot.”

  “Only if you’ve got eyes in the back of your head.” Owen’s voice carried from behind her, the kitchen’s fluorescent lighting flickering to life as he hit the switch.

  “Son of bitch,” she whispered, her heart hammering in her throat. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m afraid I acted on instinct. And for the record, I wasn’t breaking and entering. The door was open.”

  “So you decided to sneak inside?”

  “I wasn’t sneaking anywhere. I called your name. No one answered. So I thought I’d better check it out. I know things are more relaxed over here in America, but I didn’t think that extended to leaving your back door wide open.” He laid a lethal-looking Walther on the countertop. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” She fought to control her cascading emotions, crossing the room to shut the door. Beyond the glass, she could see the cottage, the porch light shining across the lawn. “I didn’t see any lights when I got home. I assumed you’d gone to bed.”

  “Actually, Nash and I shared a pint. Good man. You’re lucky to have people like him and Avery on your team.”

  “You don’t suspect them of double-dealing?” The question just popped out and she immediately regretted it.

  “I don’t suspect anyone, Tyler. I’m just here to observe. And to help if possible.”

  “And I’m not usually such a shrew.” She shook her head. “I’m just not used to finding strange men in my kitchen in the middle of the night.”

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, but it’s not that late, and I’m hardly a stranger.” His appraising gaze slowly traveled the length of her body, and she felt her cheeks flame, more from memory than embarrassment. The man had a way of discombobulating her. “And I was honestly concerned.”

  “Well, I appreciate the thought. But as you can see,” she laid her gun down next to his, “I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

  “So did you leave the door open?” he asked, leaning back against the counter.

  “No. I didn’t. In fact, I’m quite positive I locked it before leaving for Colorado. But Avery has a key, and so does Nash. And someone brought my bag in. Must have been one of them.”

  “So you think it was an accident?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what to think.” She sank down onto a kitchen chair, her mind turning to the missing scarf. “I had a feeling when I got home that something was off. But then when I saw the suitcase I figured I was just being jumpy. And then I heard you—”

  “And you had second thoughts.”

  “More or less.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m working on high alert. After all, someone did try to kill me earlier. I just figured it was better not to take chances.”

  “I guess I should be glad you didn’t shoot me.”

  Her smile was less than convincing, and she exhaled slowly, trying for a calm she didn’t feel.

  Owen frowned, watching her, his gaze speculating. “There’s something more, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling me.”

  She started to deny it—to create some kind of smoke screen, but the words died before they could form. After all, he was right, he wasn’t a stranger. She’d trusted him in the dark of her bedroom. It couldn’t possibly be harder here in the full light of the kitchen.

  “You’re right. There is something. I should probably have mentioned it earlier, but under the circumstances, General Fisher wasn’t exactly a go-to guy. And by the time you and I met up in the hotel, I was beginning to have doubts.”

  “But not anymore.”

  “No.” She shook her head, thinking of the empty writing box upstairs. “None at all. Look, I want to tell you. But I’ve got to tell Avery, too. And to be honest, I don’t know that I can get through it more than once.”

  In truth, she didn’t want to go through it at all. But there was no choice. Someone was using her past against her, and keeping quiet was only going to make things worse.

  CHAPTER 6

  Thanks for coming,” Tyler said, as Avery settled in the big wing chair by the fireplace. Owen was sitting across from him on the sofa, watching the two of them. There was a comfortableness between them he envied, a friendship of long standing.

  “So now that you’ve gotten me out of bed,” Avery began.

  “Oh, please,” Tyler protested with a smile. “I know you weren’t sleeping. The Yankees are playing in California. Which means a late-night game here on the East Coast.”

  “Guilty as charged. But we’re not here to discuss the Yankees.”

  All signs of frivolity vanished, her face tightening, as she considered her words. “As I told Owen, I probably should have said something sooner. It’s just that I decided I was overreacting.”

  “To what?” Avery asked, showing no sign of the impatience Owen was feeling.

  “On the road, when I went to the embankment to make sure there was no one down there, I saw something blue. And it triggered an emotional reaction. That’s why I decided to check it out.”

  “As far as I know, no one found anything down there.” Owen wondered if she was playing some kind of game. If maybe she’d decided to lead them on a wild goose chase of some kind. Keep them away from the real truth. It certainly fit with Palmer’s belief that she had been involved in the theft somehow. But he, of all people, knew it was best to wait for all the facts rather than jumping to any kind of conclusion. “Certainly nothing blue,” he finished.<
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  “That’s why I hesitated to say anything,” she said. “I thought maybe I’d dreamed up the whole thing, especially the last bit. But none of this is going to make any sense if I don’t explain why it mattered.”

  She paused for a moment, looking uncomfortable as she warily watched the two of them. Then with a sigh, she turned her attention to Owen. “I told you that my mother was dead,” she said, lacing her fingers together over her knees, the gesture making her look like a kid. “What I didn’t tell you was that she killed herself.”

  “Good Lord.” The words came of their own volition, but he could feel her pain. Losing people one loved was never easy, but when there was violence involved, it made it all the worse.

  “It doesn’t hurt as much now.” Tyler shook her head. “At least that’s what I tell myself. The truth is my mother wasn’t particularly stable. So in some awful way, it was a relief that she finally found peace. But, that’s not the point. The reason I’m dredging this all up again is that it’s beginning to look like it plays into what happened in Colorado. At the very least I think there was a calculated attempt to manipulate my actions.”

  She paused, reaching for her coffee, sipping the beverage and then carefully placing the cup back on the table. Her motions were slow and exact, and Owen recognized her actions as a struggle for control.

  “My mother jumped off a bridge,” she said, without preamble, her voice shaking ever so slightly as she spoke. “And when she went over, her scarf caught on the railing, hanging there like a banner, marking the spot.” She sucked in a fortifying breath. “But despite the fact that there were both cars and pedestrians on the bridge, no one saw it. Or her. Or if they did, they didn’t bother to stop. The police found her body six hours later, a few miles downstream.” She paused, looking down at her hands. “If someone had just stopped. Or called 911. But they didn’t.”

  “People see what they want to see,” Owen said, his words meant as comfort. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to ease her pain, but he did.

  “I’m guessing the scarf was blue,” Avery said, pulling them both back to the moment.

  “Yes.” She nodded, her gaze encompassing them both as everything fell into place. “I gave it to her when I was eight. For her birthday. It had little paisleys on it. She always said it was her favorite.” Tears welled and she dashed them away.

  “How old were you when she died?” Owen asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.

  “Twelve. Well, actually eleven and three-quarters. My birthday was in two weeks. She’d said I could have a party.” She paused for a moment, ducking her head, then lifted her chin, pushing away whatever demons still tormented her. “Anyway, at the side of the road, when the flashlight picked out something blue, I guess I went into overdrive. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake people had made with my mother. If someone was hurt, I wanted to help.”

  “That’s understandable,” Avery said. “And it makes sense that you wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it with General Fisher.”

  “I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. I just feel so guilty that I let someone lure me into reacting.”

  “But surely you’re not saying that someone intentionally left something blue out there for you to find.” Owen reached for his own coffee, taking a sip as he tried to sort through what she was telling them.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. And I know it sounds crazy. But I also know what I saw.”

  “But you couldn’t have had that good a look. I mean, it was dark and you were in a hurry.” Avery frowned. “You said the attack started before you had a chance to investigate.”

  “That’s true, but there was time enough to pick it up. And it was definitely a scarf. But then, before I could examine it, everything exploded, shots firing from up above. And in my effort to get back up the slope to help my team, I lost it. I stumbled and the wind grabbed it.”

  “And that’s when you were hit.” It was a question, not a statement, and Owen could see a visible flash of memory as Tyler winced.

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “It all happened really fast. There were four gunmen, and I was too far away to take any of them out. Anthony was already dead. But Roger was alive. And I tried to provide cover while he scrambled to safety.” She closed her eyes for a minute, still remembering. “He almost made it. But I was too late. Next thing I know I’m hit, the impact sending me back down the incline. I tried to hang on to consciousness. But I couldn’t. And the last thing I saw was the scarf. It was snarled in the limbs of the tree hanging over me.”

  “I can see how that would spook you,” Owen said, meaning every word, although he still wasn’t entirely sure she was telling the whole truth.

  “I remember thinking that it looked exactly like my mother’s,” she continued. “Only even in that moment, I didn’t really believe what I was seeing. And then when I woke up—it was gone.”

  “And you questioned whether it was ever really there,” Avery prompted.

  “At the end, yes. I know it was there before. I held it in my hands. But like Owen said, no one else mentioned it. I even checked the preliminary forensics report. And there was nothing in it about a scarf. And General Fisher was already having a field day with my surviving. I just figured I’d let it go until I got back here.”

  “And finding the scarf is what you were alluding to when I called?” Avery asked.

  She nodded. “I just didn’t want to talk about it on the phone. I was either totally crazy, or I was on to something, and I had no idea if the phone was really secure.”

  “Sound thinking.” Avery nodded.

  “But you still didn’t tell us,” Owen said. “Even after you got back.”

  “Well, I was a little surprised to find that you were here. And since I don’t really know you,” she winced again on the last words, “I figured it was better to wait until I could talk with Avery on my own.”

  “Only something changed your mind.”

  “I just realized that it was pointless trying to keep it from you. You’re part of this operation whether I like it or not. And when I found you in my kitchen—”

  “Hold on.” Avery lifted a hand to interrupt. “What the hell were you doing in her kitchen?”

  It was a valid question, and one Owen had no intention of answering honestly. So he stuck with the story he’d told Tyler. “Her back door was open. I was worried. Figured I’d check things out.”

  “And scare the hell out of me.” Her smile was faint, but there was genuine amusement there. “Although I was already jumpy. I knew when I came through the front door that something wasn’t right. It was only when I found my bag in my room that I realized you’d been here.” She looked to Avery for confirmation, but the big man was frowning.

  “It wasn’t me.” He shook his head.

  “Well, someone must have deposited it,” Owen said, his gaze encompassing them both. “I assume you have security?”

  “There are surveillance cameras,” Avery said. “Which means someone is monitoring the cul-de-sac 24/7.”

  “Are there any cameras on the property?” He’d checked, of course, and found nothing, but it was always possible he’d missed something.

  “Unfortunately, no.” Avery shook his head. “But there is an alarm system. We all have one.”

  “Only I rarely remember to turn it on.” Tyler grimaced. “Not that it really matters, I’ve got CIA operatives living on all sides of me. Anyway, it must have been Nash. I told you he had a key.”

  “But Nash was with you,” Owen said, his instincts going on hyperdrive. “And subsequently with me. So there wasn’t time.”

  “Well, then it was probably Annie.”

  “That should be easy enough to check,” Owen said, reaching for the telephone.

  “Not now,” Tyler said, glancing down at her watch. “It’s late. Adam will be asleep. We can check it out tomorrow.”

  “I agree.” Avery nodded. “But if you haven’t already, don’t touch the suitcase. We need to
be certain that it wasn’t tampered with. And there’s always a chance we can get a print.”

  “Fine. There’s nothing in it I can’t live without for a night. And besides, the suitcase isn’t what spooked me into telling the two of you,” she said on a sigh. “After the inquiry into my mother’s death, the police returned her things. And my father promptly disposed of most of them. But I managed to sneak off with a couple of items, including the scarf. I know it’s silly, but holding on to it made me feel closer to her somehow.”

  Owen thought of the boxes he still had, in London, in storage. It wasn’t exactly the same, but he understood her motivation.

  “Did you have the scarf here?” Avery’s use of past tense said it all—and Owen waited, the pieces finally falling in place.

  “I did. I kept it upstairs in a special place. A hidden compartment in an antique writing box. And tonight when I opened it to check on the scarf—it was gone.”

  There was a beat of silence, and then Avery whistled. “So you think someone stole it?”

  “Yes, I do. I mean, there’s no other reason for it to have gone missing. I never take it out of the box. Hell, I don’t even look at it that often. I think someone took it and used it in Colorado to lure me into leaving Gerardi and Mather.”

  “They knew how you’d react to seeing the scarf.” Owen frowned, trying to line it all up in his mind. “And combined with the motorcycle and the damaged guard rail, they gambled it would be enough to send you down the hill.”

  “So they stole the scarf to use it as bait,” Avery summarized.

  “If this is true,” Owen said, “and I can’t say that I’m completely convinced—then it would seem that someone involved with the detonators’ theft knows the intimate details of your life. At least with regard to your mother’s suicide.”

  “But why go to all this trouble?” Tyler asked. “I mean, surely they could have just outgunned us. I mean, why the elaborate effort to get me down the hill? And why use my mother’s scarf? It’s almost like it’s personal.”

  “Maybe someone is trying to frame you,” Avery said.