B007GFGTIY EBOK (22 page)

Some thirty feet short of Hayden, the man paused, as if his enthusiasm had been getting the better of him up till that point but prudence had just taken over. Hayden spotted a flicker of nerves in his eyes. He wished he had a weapon. This guy was nervous enough to have brought one. It would be the worst irony if the only person with answers ended up shooting, knifing, or bludgeoning him to death.

“Tony Mason?”

The man nodded. “Hayden Duke?”

“Yeah.”

Mason smiled and jogged over to Hayden. He offered his hand. Hayden shook it. There was strength in his grasp.

“You don’t know what this means, man.”

Hayden noticed the crude skull-and-crossbones tattoo on the back of his hand.

“Nice tattoo.”

Mason glanced down at his hand. He laughed. “Yeah, I had it done when I went into the army. I thought it would be scary. Half the battle is making the enemy fear you. I have others.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Mason nodded. “Sorry for the theatrics. I couldn’t take any chances. I wanted to make sure you came alone. Did anyone follow you?”

“Not that I saw. Should I be looking?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s following me? What’s this about?”

Mason stuffed his hands in the pockets of his fatigue jacket. “The project you worked on for MDE. The people who employed MDE are cleaning house.”

He knew this already, but hearing someone else say it sent a chill running through him.

“Didn’t James Lockhart employ MDE?”

Mason snorted. “He’s the middleman. I doubt he even knows what’s going on.”

“How did you know Shane?”

“Like you, I worked as a contractor for MDE.”

“In what capacity?”

“I’m a troubleshooter. I shoot trouble.”

Hayden’s instincts kicked in a split second too late. Before he could bolt, Mason slammed a fist into his gut. The pain folded him in two. That moment’s immobilization was all Mason needed. He spun Hayden around, put him in a choke hold, and jerked a weapon from his jacket pocket.

Mason’s arm tightened around Hayden’s throat. Hayden’s lungs burned with the spent air trying to escape and his grip on consciousness slipped with every exploding starburst in his vision. If he didn’t do something fast, it was over. He was going the way of Shane, Chaudhary, Fuller, and all the rest of them. He was going to die and he didn’t know why.

A blinding realization seared all other thoughts away. If this was happening to him, was it happening to Rebecca? Had she received a similar call? Was she fighting for her life this very second or was she next on Mason’s to-do list? Hayden had two reasons to survive now.

He forced his hand under his assailant’s arm. He thrust up, wedging his forearm into the crook of Mason’s arm. Hayden didn’t have enough strength to break free from Mason’s bear-trap grip, but he did have enough strength to take the pressure off his throat. As he sucked air into his lungs, the light-headedness dissolved.

“C’mon, Hayden, don’t fuck around,” Mason growled. “Take your medicine like a good boy.”

Mason brought his weapon up to Hayden’s face. Hayden snatched his wrist with his free hand. He expected to see a knife but didn’t. Mason was clutching what looked like a plastic cigar case, but instead of it being perfectly cylindrical, a rectangular opening flared out at the end from one side. Mason’s thumb tightened on a button on the butt end. Hayden thrashed to free himself, but Mason kept him restrained. He was the puppet master and Hayden the puppet. Hayden felt his strength wane. His arm holding the weapon off buckled and Mason brought it closer to his throat as specks of bright light danced in Hayden’s vision again.

“Game over,” Mason whispered, his breath brushing against Hayden’s neck. “No lives left. Time to die.”

Hayden raised his foot and stamped down on Mason’s boot. Feeling bones crack under his heel brought him a smile.

“Fuck,” Mason yelled out.

Mason maintained his hold on Hayden, but Hayden felt it waver. He stamped his foot down again, delivering another direct hit on the already damaged area. Mason yelled out again and this time his grasp on Hayden faded.

Finally, Hayden had room to move. He snapped his head back and butted Mason in the face. He ignored the spike of pain rushing through his brain. Mason’s hands shot to his face.

Hayden whirled around on Mason, but Mason put him down with a vicious backhand. It felt like a brick connecting with his cheekbone. He thought he’d weathered the blow well until he realized he was falling. He crashed down on the unforgiving ground on his tailbone. A lightning bolt crackled up his spine, overriding the fire raging in his cheek.

Anger knotted Mason’s features. His hands were clenched into tight fists and the skull-and-crossbones tattoo bulged in the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Hayden remembered Mason’s army remark. The guy had been army once, but not now. His discipline was long gone. Rage overwhelmed him and he charged at Hayden with no thought or plan.

Hayden kicked out with his heel again and connected with Mason’s kneecap. He hit the sweet spot and Mason collapsed onto all fours. The weapon in his grasp went skittering across the asphalt. Hayden chased it down and stamped on the plastic case, cracking it open. The splintered weapon hissed in death.

Mason charged and slammed into Hayden’s back, snapping his head back and driving him to the ground. Hayden went down with his attacker on top of him. He put out his hands to save his fall, but Mason’s weight crushed him. Hayden’s hands skidded out on the rough asphalt, shredding the skin from his palms.

“End of the road, Hayden.”

Mason snatched fistfuls of Hayden’s hair, jerked back his head, and smashed his forehead into the ground. Shockwaves crackled out from the point of impact. Hayden’s grip on consciousness wavered. Mason raised Hayden’s head for a second attempt. He wouldn’t survive a second impact.

“Hey,” a voice yelled, halting Mason in his task.

A flashlight beam lit up their faces. The light seared Hayden’s vision.

“Don’t move a damn muscle.”

“Another time, Hayden.”

Mason pressed Hayden into the ground as he sprung to his feet and broke into a run.

The security guard behind the flashlight raced toward them.

Hayden had no intention of explaining himself to anyone unless Mason was cuffed to him. He clambered to his feet and chased after Mason. He instantly felt the effects of the beating. His first punch-drunk steps sent him stumbling, but his adrenaline kicked in when the security guard yelled at him to stop.

Mason raced back to the spot he’d emerged from earlier. Hayden took pleasure in seeing him run with a limp. At least he’d accomplished something that night. Still, Mason managed to outpace him. He hurled himself headlong into the shrubs and disappeared.

Hayden’s head bashing had disabled his brain’s ability to absorb shock. He felt every jarring step, but he didn’t let it stop him, and he burst through the shrubs. The sharp branches raked his face and hands. He ignored the superficial damage they inflicted and emerged on the other side to see Mason charging along the drainage channel that captured the runoff from the business park.

“Stop right there,” the security guard yelled.

Hayden ignored him and raced after Mason. The concrete channel was damp and slick with algae. He slipped more often than not, but took comfort in the knowledge that Mason would be suffering the same hindrance.

Mason, although injured, moved quickly and efficiently and maintained a healthy lead on Hayden. The drainage channel disappeared under a roadway and Mason scrambled up onto the road and bolted for the Highway 12. Hayden’s heart sank as his attacker disappeared. He was going to lose him if he didn’t do something. He glanced over his shoulder at his savior chasing him, the security guard in a dark blue uniform still calling after them.

Hayden reached the end of the drainage channel and climbed onto the roadway. He found himself on a dead-end street that serviced a couple of nameless businesses. The street fed directly into Highway 12. Mason had almost reached the busy highway, but his pace had significantly slowed. He lumbered, trying to get his best out of his buckled knee.

Hayden grinned. He had the bastard. Mason’s injury spurred him on. He reeled in his attacker a stride at a time.

Mason reached the highway. Hayden didn’t see a getaway vehicle waiting for him and thought he had him, but that thought only lasted a second. Mason hesitated, then bolted across the highway.

“Shit,” Hayden muttered.

A pickup swerved to avoid Mason and roared past with the driver’s hand on the horn. Mason clambered over the guardrail and fell flat on his face on the grass median. Traffic forced Hayden to stop at the roadside. He watched Mason climb over the second guardrail and scurry across the westbound lanes. The security guard called out again. Hayden ignored him but couldn’t ignore the security guard’s boots pounding the road close behind him.

The traffic cleared and Hayden bolted. Headlights of approaching vehicles lit him up. He plowed on, hurdling the first guardrail. He planted his landing but slid on the wet grass. He recovered himself just in time to be struck from behind. The security guard drove him to the ground. The force of his weight crashing on top of him blasted the air from his lungs. He looked up to see Mason disappear into a residential street.

“You’re not both going to get away,” the security guard growled, hoisting Hayden to his feet. “You gonna tell me what you two were up to? What was it? Drug deal or were ya trying to rip off the store?”

“He was mugging me, you moron.”

Hayden’s frustrated response stopped the guy. “What?”

“He mugged me and you helped him get away.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know?” The security guard released his grip on Hayden. “I’ve seen a lot of shit go down. You could have been up to anything.”

Hayden’s anger bled out. The guard had a perfect right to suspect the worst. “OK. You did stop him from finishing what he was doing.”

“C’mon, man. Let’s get back. I’ve got a first-aid kit in the trailer. You’re welcome to use it.”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself.” The security guard escorted him back across the highway. An 18-wheeler honked at them. “Yeah, fuck you and the horse you rode in on,” the security guard shouted after the disappearing truck. “Douche bag.”

The guard babbled. Hayden gave him scant attention. The significance of Mason’s attack dominated his thoughts. He’d been a damn fool and had almost gotten himself killed. He needed to be more careful from now on.

He massaged his head where Mason had driven it into the ground. Blood came away on his hand.

They retraced their steps along the drainage channel and through the landscaping back to the service road. They stopped when they reached the scene of the crime.

“What were you doing back here anyway? The area’s prohibited.”

Hayden thought fast. “I was lost and I was checking a map.”

The security guard seemed to buy the lie, but looked unsure of himself. “I need to call this in.”

Hayden had been hoping the security guard wasn’t going to go the extra mile. “Look, is that necessary?”

“You were assaulted. Don’t you want this asshole busted?”

Doubt crept into the security guard’s expression. Hayden couldn’t afford the cops gumming up the works. He needed to play this right.

“Look, he didn’t get anything and I just want to get home.” Hayden wanted to sound weary and didn’t have to try too hard.

The security guard considered Hayden’s request. Hayden didn’t wait for him to answer. He fished in his pocket for his keys and promptly dropped them. He went light-headed when he bent for them and had to close his eyes tight until the fireworks dispersed. When he opened them, his gaze fell on Mason’s busted weapon. He picked it up.

“Is that one of those pepper sprays?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t do you much good. Anyway, they’re for women. Management offered me one of those, but I said I’d prefer to use a bit of brute force and boxing training to get me through. Know what I mean?”

Hayden examined the weapon. If it was supposed to inflict some harm, he couldn’t see how. It didn’t look like much. It resembled an asthmatic’s inhaler, but not the usual type. From the way Mason had brandished it, Hayden bet it relieved constricted airways permanently. The security guard’s pepper-spray assessment was way off the mark.

The broken casing exposed a canister. Hayden’s heel had burst the delicate container, revealing a fine powder inside. Had Mason let something slip? He’d talked about Shane’s suicide not being his will. Was this device the cause?

He suddenly remembered Rebecca. If they were after him, they were after her. He rounded his Mitsubishi and got behind the wheel. He stuffed the weapon in the glove compartment. “Thanks for your help.”

Hayden’s sudden spurt of speed spooked the security guard. He scurried in front of the car. “You should wait for the cops.”

Hayden gunned the engine. “I’ve gotta go.”

“I want you to wait.”

Hayden slammed the car into reverse. He powered backward out of the service road and into the parking lot. He put the car into a half spin, then peeled out of the parking lot, leaving the security guard to curse and spit.

Hayden headed toward the highway. He drove one-handed while he punched Rebecca’s cell number into his phone. His call went to her voice mail.

“Shit.”

He was forty minutes from San Rafael. Someone could get to her in that time. He needed someone to warn and protect her. He punched in Santiago’s number.

T
he garage door rolled up and Rebecca guided her car inside. She pulled up next to her brother’s Infiniti sedan, popped the trunk, and hefted out four bulging Trader Joe’s paper bags. She was removing the last of her groceries and closing the trunk when he called to her.

“Can I help you with those, Ms. Fallon?”

Rebecca turned. “Detective Santiago. I thought you’d finished with me for today.”

There was humor in her tone. Santiago had her trust. He just hoped he could keep it.

He locked his car and crossed the road from his hiding spot. He kept a keen eye as he crossed the street. It seemed like overkill for a private street, but he wasn’t watching for a car.

“Could we talk?”

“Sure.”

She handed Santiago two of the bags and he followed her through the garage and into the kitchen, closing the garage door on the way. He placed the groceries on the counter as she opened the fridge and unloaded the first bag.

“How have you been, Ms. Fallon?”

“Detective Santiago, can we drop the formalities? Call me Rebecca.”

“OK, Rebecca. How have you been?”

Rebecca brought out an armful of apples and dropped them into a fruit basket next to the fridge. “As well as can be expected. Anyway, why the nighttime visit? I’m sure you’re not on duty.”

“Rebecca, I think you should sit down.”

Her face clouded over. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“Sit down.”

When she made no move to sit, he took the lead and sat at the dining table. He patted the chair kitty-corner to him. She relented and sat.

The spark he’d seen in her just moments earlier had been extinguished. Fear burned in her eyes. She expected the worst. With her history, it wasn’t surprising. In her experience, people like him always came with bad news.

“What’s happened?”

“Hayden’s been attacked.” He held up a hand to silence her. “He’s OK, though. Someone roughed him up, but he gave as good as he got.”

She slumped in her seat. “Thank God.”

“He’s tough, but not as tough as he thinks he is.”

“What does that mean?”

“You two are very alike. You both think you can save the world by yourselves. Take it from me, no one’s that tough. We all need help.”

“What happened? Please.”

“I don’t have all the details. As far as I can tell, he received an anonymous phone call from someone claiming to have information about Shane’s death. He met with this person and it was a trap. It was pretty obvious he wasn’t supposed to walk away from this. He’s lucky to be alive.”

“How is he?”

“Fine. A little battered and bruised, but fine.”

“He called you?”

“Yes, he called me and asked me to look out for you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You. Whatever you two know, or are perceived to know, may be putting your lives in danger.”

Santiago paused. He’d said enough to scare her. It was written all over her face. He made no apology for this. He wanted her off-kilter. If he had her off-balance, she might be more willing to open up. He was still convinced she was holding something back.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

“Where is he? I want to speak to him.”

“He’s getting patched up. I have a Fairfield officer with him and Rice is on his way to get a statement. You can talk to him later. Talk to me now. You want some coffee?”

Rebecca didn’t object.

Santiago didn’t press her while he made the coffee. He wanted her to absorb the severity of Hayden’s attack and the threat to her life. She wasn’t bulletproof or beyond the attack of others. He’d broken through their defenses at the drugstore. Now he needed to get them to work with him. He poured the coffee and brought it over to her.

“Have you seen anyone hanging around?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? A strange face, an unfamiliar car, hang-ups, anything?”

“No, I’m sure.”

“How about Tony Mason. Heard of him?”

Rebecca shook her head.

Santiago sipped his coffee. “Drink up. This is good, if I do say so myself.”

Rebecca smiled weakly and sampled the coffee. “You must have a contented wife.”

“I don’t know about that, seeing as I’m spending more time with you than her.”

His remark robbed Rebecca of her smile. It was an unnecessary barb in some ways, but it was a point well made.

“Can you tell me anything else about your visit with Professor Eskdale?”

Rebecca shifted in her seat. She and Hayden were crappy poker players. When he had dropped Eskdale’s name at the drugstore, they’d both looked as if they were passing stones.

“Why, did he say something?”

“That’s the problem. He isn’t saying anything. He’s gone. He seemingly vanished moments after you saw him. He didn’t go home, he’s not answering his phone, and he hasn’t left word with anyone.”

Rebecca didn’t exactly relax, but some of the tension went out of her body.

“C’mon, Rebecca. It’s time to fess up. Did something happen?”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. He saw her wrestle with the decision to speak. She wanted to seek counsel with Hayden. It wasn’t an option this time. He gave her a little shove in the right direction.

“I thought we had an agreement, Rebecca. Honesty. Openness. I know something happened. I saw it in Hayden’s face in Arcata. I can help you if you tell me about it.”

She tried not to make eye contact with him but finally surrendered. “Things got a little out of hand.”

Santiago felt Rebecca’s agitation. “What are we talking about here?”

“Eskdale tried to run. Hayden held him down. He wasn’t trying to hurt him. We just wanted answers and we didn’t want him running out on us without something.”

They’d crossed the assault line and then some. Santiago mumbled a curse and sipped his coffee for comfort. “You two are like a runaway train. Did anyone witness this?”

“Another lecturer. We ran and then you picked us up outside.”

He wondered if he was guilty of aiding and abetting. He shook the thought off. “Forget it. Eskdale hasn’t squawked, so it didn’t happen. You’ve got more to worry about than an assault charge.”

Santiago’s cell burst into song. Dysart’s name flashed up on the caller ID. The coroner investigator only called him outside of office hours when he had something. He excused himself and took the call. “What have you got for me, Dick?”

“Ruben, can you come see me?” Dysart spoke without his customary laugh track engaged. Something had developed.

“I’m tied up at the moment. What’s up?”

“I have your tox results. Malcolm Fuller indulged in the same narcotic as Chaudhary and Fallon.”

Bingo
! Santiago liked it when he was right. This was an important development, but not important enough to warrant Dysart’s serious tone. “What else?” Santiago asked.

“The bruise. It’s not just a bruise. I found a concentration of the drug under the skin. Not all of it had been absorbed into the bloodstream. There probably wasn’t time between application and death.”

“How is it applied?”

“I wish I knew, Ruben. I’ll drop by in the morning and show you what I’ve got.”

“You do that,” Santiago said and hung up.

“What was that about?” Rebecca asked. “Remember, we’re in a period of sharing.”

He gave her what Dysart had told him.

“The bruise, what does it mean?”

“Don’t know, but I’ll find out.”

She fixed him with a stare that hurt to be under. He finished his coffee quickly and poured himself another cup. When he returned to the kitchen table, her stare hadn’t gone away. She was gearing up to ask him a question. He braced himself for it.

“I need to know. Do you think Shane killed himself?”

He was having doubts and Dysart’s call had confirmed them. The bruise had proved to be the source of the drug. What did that mean? It created doubt, but it failed to prompt an answer. “Your brother’s death doesn’t fit a model scenario.”

“You’ll get splinters in your butt if you sit on the fence too long.”

He grinned but then turned serious. Her question did deserve a better answer. “I don’t want to build your hopes up. We have Hayden’s eyewitness account, but something is still wrong with the circumstances. I don’t have an explanation, but I’m getting closer to a solution. Just bear with me, OK?”

“How long will this go on?”

“I wish I knew, but while you’re a target, I’m going to be watching out for you. I’ll start with a security check here.”

Santiago walked the house with Rebecca. The doors came with dead bolts. All windows had locks. The security systems would make a lot of noise and send a signal to the cops. It wasn’t Fort Knox, but if anyone tried anything, it was going to be noticed.

As he inspected the place, he saw the reminders of Shane’s rampage—gouged drywall and stockpiles of broken possessions consigned to boxes. It brought him back to when he’d first looked the house over after Shane’s death.

She walked him back to the kitchen. He told her to keep the house sealed up tight, and she promised she would. His cell rang. The patrol unit he’d asked to watch over her had arrived.

“I’m going to go now. Don’t leave the house. Don’t open the door. I don’t care who comes. Not even Hayden. You have good defenses, but only if you keep the door locked.”

“Can I call him?”

“Sure. Tell him to do the same and remind him to give me a copy of that file.”

“I will.”

“You like him?”

“Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

Santiago was leaning in that direction, too.

She walked him to the door. He stopped on the threshold and checked the street for something that didn’t fit. The right puzzle pieces were in the jigsaw.

“Now promise me you’ll lock yourself in for the night. If you need to leave, call me. You’ve got my number.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” He smiled. “Just do it.”

From the comfort of his car, Beckerman watched Santiago take the grocery bags from Rebecca Fallon and follow her inside. He’d been waiting for her to come home when the detective popped up. Forget the checks and balances Hayden and Rebecca provided—the Eskdale incident had sent its own signal, loud and clear: Mr. Duke and Ms. Fallon needed to be eliminated. The detective ruined his plan, but he could wait. He didn’t need to complicate matters by killing a cop. He couldn’t even try for a plan B, since a sheriff’s unit had pulled up out front.

He didn’t blame the cop for this development. His arrival was an indicator, like an engine light when the motor ran too hot. Something had gone wrong. Santiago hadn’t happened to pop by. He’d been waiting for her, and he hadn’t simply followed her in; he’d scanned the street for hostiles. Beckerman recognized the tactic from his bodyguard training. Santiago was expecting an ambush. This could mean the detective was cagey because he had to inform Rebecca of some bad news involving Hayden, but he didn’t think so. The timeline was wrong. The cops wouldn’t have found Hayden yet. The drug worked fast but not that fast. But all that was immaterial. Mason should have called in by now. He tried Mason’s number, but his call went straight to voice mail. Not good. Not good at all.

The front door opened and Santiago and Rebecca emerged on the stoop. Their smiles spoke nothing of Hayden’s demise. Mason had screwed up. How disappointing.

He powered down his windows to listen. He wasn’t a fan of gated communities, but he did like their quiet streets.

“Thank you, detective.”

“You tell Hayden to talk to me. Make him see sense.”

“I’ll try.”

“Try real hard. Good night, Rebecca.”

“Good night.”

“This car is going to stay here all night. You’ll be safe.”

The remark underlined Mason’s mistake to Beckerman.

Rebecca closed the door and Santiago checked in with the deputy parked out front before leaving in his own car parked half a dozen houses from Rebecca’s. He’d not only come for Rebecca, he’d come to see who else came for her. Disappointment settled over Beckerman.

The detective gunned the engine and passed Beckerman, but didn’t see him. Beckerman snorted at the cop’s incompetence. That sloppiness might just save the cop’s life.

His cell rang. Mason’s name appeared on the caller’s ID. “You’re late with your report.”

“I had some trouble.”

Lockhart should have let him do it his way, but he wanted Rebecca and Duke taken care of at the same time. Beckerman thought Mason’s heavy-handed, sledgehammer-to-crack-a-nut approach would be best suited for Duke. Mason lacked the finesse to be effective with Rebecca. She would be his indulgence.

“What went wrong?”

“I got him alone. I was about to shoot him up and some rent-a-cop at the Home Depot fucked everything up.”

“You did this in a Home Depot?”

“Hey, it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

No, it was worse, Beckerman thought. “I assume you were unsuccessful?” he said.

“Yes. I had to abort.”

“Jesus Christ. You’re supposed to be a professional soldier.”

“I am.”

“You were.”

“I’ll try again.”

Beckerman didn’t reply. He was weighing his options.