“Anne Trapp. She stayed inside the house.”
“Why? Why would she stay?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Carrie, or maybe Knolte knows the reason now.”
Avery stood and nearly tripped over her backpack and duffel bag. “How did these get here?”
“The chief called a friend. He got my car working and drove it here.”
Avery was so relieved and jubilant about Carrie, she felt limp and giddy. She wanted to laugh and cry, and kiss John Paul. Oh, she really wanted to kiss him, and a whole lot more. What was wrong with her? Maybe it was the endorphins. Yes, that’s what it was.
She mentally shook herself. She needed to concentrate on Carrie now. And Uncle Tony. “Did anyone call my uncle?”
“Yes,” he answered. “He’s a happy man right now, but scared too. He wants to get on the next flight to Aspen.”
She nodded approval. “Who’s downstairs?” she asked as she knelt beside her duffel bag and unzipped it.
“FBI,” he said. “There are five of them downstairs, all talking on their cell phones. They’ve taken over the police station, and Chief Tyler isn’t real happy about that. Tyler’s an okay guy,” he added. “He doesn’t much like the FBI either.”
She rolled her eyes. “Your prejudice is juvenile, John Paul.” She pulled out a pair of khakis. “I should go down and find out what they have so far. Any word on where Monk might be?”
“No,” he answered. He was staring at her legs, noticing how long and shapely they were. One thought led to another, and another, and before he could stop himself, he was picturing her legs wrapped around his thighs.
He looked at the wall behind her head. “You can’t go downstairs like that.”
“Like what? I’m going to put on slacks,” she said. “And since when do you care what I look like?”
“I don’t care,” he answered gruffly. “But I can see through that threadbare T-shirt.”
She looked down, whispered, “Oh, God,” and grabbed the sheet from the cot, tugging with all her might to get the end out from under John Paul. She dropped her slacks as she wrapped the sheet around her.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” She was blushing.
“Now, why would I want to do that?”
His grin was lecherous. Shaking her head, she said, “I need to go to Carrie as soon as possible. She must be crazed after what she’s been through.”
His smile vanished. “Not a good idea,” he said. “Sit down, Avery. We need to talk.”
His tone of voice indicated it was serious. She sat down beside him. “You don’t think I should go see Carrie?”
“No, I don’t. Talk to her on the phone if you need proof she’s okay, but don’t go to her.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s what the FBI wants you to do,” he said. “The agent calling the shots from Aspen told Knolte—”
She interrupted. “Who’s Knolte?”
“The kid agent downstairs running the show here,” he explained. “He told me the game plan. They want to put you and Carrie and the judge together in protective custody until they get Monk, and that’s not a good idea.”
“John Paul, they’re good at what they do.”
“Yeah? Well, so is Monk,” he said. “And staying together is gonna make it real easy for him.”
Avery didn’t say a word. She silently agreed, but she felt it would be disloyal to the Bureau to admit her reservations.
She tried to get up, but he put his hands on her shoulders.
“What are you doing?”
“Bracing you so you won’t hit your head if you faint.”
“Listen,” she said. “Downstairs . . . when I lost it . . . that was the first time in my life I ever passed out. I’m not a weakling. I was sleep-deprived and stressed . . . really stressed out. I won’t faint again. Now let go of me. I want to get dressed and go downstairs to talk to Agent Knolte.”
“In a minute,” he promised. He tightened his hold as he said, “There’s something else you need to know.”
“Yes?”
He was suddenly at a loss for words. He was searching for the best way to tell her. “It’s going to be difficult . . .”
“I can handle it. Just tell me.” She relaxed her shoulders then and said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. What is it?”
“Carrie knows who the woman with Monk is.”
She tilted her head. “She knows her?”
“Yes.” He took a breath. “You know her too.”
“Come on, John Paul. Stop fencing. Just tell me,” she demanded.
“Jilly. Carrie said her name is Jilly.”
Avery’s reaction stunned John Paul. She didn’t faint; she didn’t cry; she didn’t argue, and she didn’t go into full-blown denial.
She roared.
Chapter 27
GET ME A GUN, JOHN PAUL. I WANT A GUN NOW. A BIG ONE.”
She looked like an avenging angel as she paced around him. She stopped just inches in front of him, poked him in the chest, and made her demand again.
Chief Tyler stood just inside the doorway of the dormitory, shifting from foot to foot as he waited for one of them to notice him.
“She’ll stay dead when I get finished with her,” Avery railed. “I want a gun.”
The chief couldn’t stop himself from trying to reason with the distraught woman.
“Now, Miss Delaney, you shouldn’t be talking crazy. What if someone does shoot your mother? With you making threats, who do you think the police will come looking for? I understand you’re overwrought, but . . .”
She whirled around to confront the policeman. “Jilly is not my mother. She’s the woman who gave birth to me, but she has never been nor will she ever be my mother. Are we clear on that?”
Tyler hastily nodded. Her wrath was blistering, and he was so surprised by the change that had come over her he didn’t know how to proceed. She’d been such a sweet, appreciative little lady when he’d first met her, but now she was a spitfire.
The chief turned to John Paul for help. “This can’t be the same woman I met downstairs. She wouldn’t happen to have a twin, would she?”
“Sorry, no twin,” he said. “She’s just got a temper.” He made that comment sound like a compliment.
The chief thought it was an understatement. “Can’t you reason with her? She can’t go running out of here with a gun, thinking she can shoot her moth . . .” He stopped himself in time. “If she isn’t your mother—”
“She isn’t.”
“Then what should I call her?”
Avery didn’t hesitate. “A frickin’ maniac,” she snapped. “A deviant sociopath, a psychopath. Take your pick. Just don’t call her my mother.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mollified, she clutched the sheet to her neck, picked up her duffel bag, and walked with her head held high toward the bathroom.
“John Paul?”
“Yes?”
“Get me a damn gun.”
The door shut before he could answer.
Tyler scratched his jaw and asked, “What are you going to do about her?”
He shrugged. “Get her a gun.”
Tyler stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “Are you going to let them take her to Aspen? You heard them talking. They want to put her, her aunt, and that judge in a safe house until they catch the man hired to kill them.”
“Yes, I heard,” he said.
“If you ask me, they’re putting all their eggs in one basket, and I figure the reason must have something to do with their budget. Less manpower if they keep them together, but if this professional killer . . . what’s his name?”
“Monk,” John Paul said.
“If he’s any good, he’ll find them. All he’d have to do is wait around that hospital and follow the judge. That’s what I’d do.”
John Paul agreed. “I heard Knolte say they were going to keep them together.”
“But you didn’t hear the rest of their plans because you had already gone upstairs to tell Avery her aunt was alive. Did you know there’s an important trial coming up?”
“No, I didn’t know.”
The chief lowered his voice as he continued. Even though he could hear the hair dryer humming in the bathroom and doubted Avery would hear them talking, he moved closer to John Paul.
“They’re going to retry a man named Skarrett. You familiar with him?”
He tensed. “Yes,” he said. “So he’s getting a new trial? When is it?”
“It starts three weeks from today,” he said. “Knolte was on the phone arguing with another agent who’s giving them orders. Anyway, when he hung up, he noticed me watching him, and he closed up tight, until I told him I was coming up here to check on the girl.” He smiled as he added, “Of course, I didn’t come right up. I made a little noise going up a couple of steps, then snuck back down and lingered in the hall so I could hear what he was telling the others.”
He glanced at the bathroom door before continuing. “If they haven’t nabbed Monk by the time the trial starts, they aren’t going to let Avery or her aunt testify, and from what I could gather, the man in charge didn’t think it would be so bad if Skarrett got off.”
John Paul was astonished. “Are you serious?”
“Oh, yes,” he drawled.
“Why in God’s name would they—”
“They’re hoping that Skarrett will lead them to a big stash he’s got hidden away. It seems Skarrett robbed a jewelry store and stole several million in uncut stones. They’re hoping to get them back.”
“So they’re going to make it easy for Skarrett to walk?”
“Avery’s a key witness,” Tyler pointed out. “And if she doesn’t testify . . .” He left the sentence hanging. John Paul was staggered by the endless possibilities of what could and would go wrong. His voice reeked with sarcasm as he said, “Now, that’s a plan guaranteed to get screwed up.”
Tyler was in full agreement. “That’s the way I see it too. Are you going to tell Avery? Once they’ve got her in that safe house, she won’t be able to get out.”
“I’ll let Knolte tell her,” he said. “Avery works for the FBI, so she’s a believer in teamwork.”
“An idealist, huh?”
“Afraid so.”
“That’s not good. What about you? What are you going to do?”
“I guess I’ll take off,” he said. “No reason to hang around here.”
“You think this Monk has backed off?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said. “But not for long. He’s taken the contracts, and when he hears that Carrie and the judge are still alive, he’ll hit again. He has to. His reputation is on the line. He’s going to continue to go after Avery too.”
Oh, yes, he’ll strike again and again and again. Until he gets the job done.
It was as though Tyler had just read his mind. “So you think it’s okay to let those boys downstairs watch over Avery? You think she’ll be all right?”
“She’s a smart, tough woman. She can handle herself.”
Tyler looked disappointed in him. “If you think that’s the right thing to do, but if you don’t and you decide you might want to do something on your own, I thought I’d mention I’ve got this nice little cabin tucked away in the mountains. I was going to go up there for a couple of weeks, and I just stocked the kitchen. Only needs the refrigerator foods, like milk and eggs, and you’d be all set. If you’re heading toward Denver, it won’t be much out of your way. It would be a good place to hide out until you and Avery decide what to do . . . about the trial and all.”
John Paul tried to interrupt him, but Tyler rushed on. “There’s a barn where I keep my car, and I’ll write out directions for you and tell you where the key to the cabin is hidden . . . if you’re interested. You think about it and let me know before you leave. I’ll go down and write those instructions just in case.”
Having had his say, he turned around and went back downstairs. John Paul didn’t know what the hell he was going to do. He stood there thinking about the situation for several minutes, then muttered an expletive as he picked up his gear and carried it down to the car. The chief’s assistant had dropped off his clean clothes. They were folded next to Avery’s on the bottom step. He shoved his in the bag, ran back up the stairs, and placed hers on one of the cots, and then headed outside.
The chief’s friend had parked Jean Paul’s car in the alley between the buildings, just below the windows in the dorm. He threw the bags into the back of the SUV and then decided he should say good-bye to Avery. He couldn’t just take off, could he? Saying good-bye and wishing her luck was the decent thing to do.
If she asks me to stay, then I will, he told himself. But if she doesn’t ask, then I’m out of here. Simple as that. She doesn’t need me. But if she asks . . .
He walked into the room and stopped cold. He nearly tripped over his own feet when he saw her. She was standing by the window with her arms folded, waiting for him.
“Why are you glaring at me?” he asked with a defensive scowl of his own.
“I saw you putting your bags in the car,” she said, nodding toward the window. “Are you leaving, then?” She took a step toward him but stopped when she noticed his back stiffened. “I would appreciate an answer.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
“Do you want to stay?”
“What kind of an answer is that? I’m not in the mood to play games, Avery.” Then, before she could respond, he squinted at her and asked, “What happened to your face?”
Her hand went to her cheek. “What’s wrong with my face?”
“Nothing. It just looks . . . different.”
“I washed it, put on some moisturizer and a little makeup. That’s all.”
“Makeup? Why would you do that? Do you want to look nice for your FBI buddies?”
Oh, brother, was he in a mood. “What’s the matter with you?”
He couldn’t answer because he couldn’t possibly put into words what was going on inside his head right now or how he was feeling. Why he was suddenly itching for a fight was beyond him. He only knew he was furious with her and with himself because she had been able to do to him what no other woman had done before. She had tied his stomach into knots. What was worse was that he had let her.