Shattered Souls (14 page)

At least she’d found this particular demon. Although that fact needed to stay buried until she spoke to someone who could confirm that what she’d seen in Michael Donnelly’s eyes was indeed demon-sign.

Sam gave a shout, too muffled for her to make out what he’d said. He backed out of the hole in a hurry, letting go his shovel to slide down the dirt hill. His head popped out. “They’re coming for us!”

Heart pounding, she crawled up on her hands and knees to lie beside him. Sure enough, the sounds of shovels clanked and crunched, multiple ones digging from the other side of the walled-off bunker.

She shone the flashlight into the deep hole he’d dug. “How far do you think they are?”

“They told me to get back. They’d break through.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth then the wall at the other end of the tunnel crumbled away. Bright light shone through the narrow passage. “Give us a minute to shore up the opening,” came a voice from the other end.

Oh, they were close. She glanced behind her, biting her lip. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured to Sam. Then she scrambled sideways down the pile of rock and dirt.

“Cait, what are you doing?”

Ignoring Sam’s question, she flashed the light as she hurried to the rear of the bunker, jumped back into the hole where their mystery Worthen lay, and tore the emblem from its chest. With everything else that had happened, she figured the professor might not miss it for a while. She needed to show Morin what they’d found and maybe have a look to see if the crest or the name Worthen appeared anywhere in his books.

When she returned to the bottom of the dirt mountain, shouts and the sounds of something motorized rumbled through the tunnel.

Sam glared from up high. His lips thinned with disapproval, but he reached out his hand, palm turned up.

Once again, she dug her fingers into the dirt and climbed up.

Sam gave her steady stare. “Hope it was important. You first.”

Low-crawling on her hands and knees, Cait scrambled the six or seven feet to freedom. Hands reached toward her and pulled her the last little way, but she fought them, turning to see whether Sam was right behind her.

When she was sure he was safely clear, she gave the man who’d dragged her out a smile. He was dressed head to foot in black Kevlar—a member of a specialized police team, the bomb squad. “Thanks.”

“No problem. How many more?”

“Just him,” she said, indicating Sam.

The officer lifted his chin toward the police cars lined up on the street, blue lights spinning. “Someone reported what sounded like an explosion. Dogs confirmed a bomb. Everyone’s got questions.”

“Bet they do,” she murmured as she brushed dirt off her clothing. “And it was dynamite. Don’t think you have to worry about booby traps. The guy was in a hurry. Didn’t look planned.”

He shrugged. “We’ve got our protocols.”

Her gaze scanned the area. The bomb squad van was there, members fully suited, dogs yipping. Beyond the perimeter were more squad cars and fire trucks.

After the grave-like quiet inside the bunker, the world outside seemed especially noisy. Officers shouting, dogs barking, engines rumbling in the vehicles passing in the distance.

She glanced around, surprised by the night sky and that the source of the bright light had been the floodlights the rescue crew had set up. Just how long had they been inside?

Long enough. She’d had plenty of time to think. So had Sam, it seemed.

He glanced her way, his face rigid, then stomped toward the uniforms lined up outside the perimeter. Was he pissed because she’d gone back for the crest? Or because he was putting up a front after his declaration—just so she wouldn’t get any ideas that anything had really changed?

A piercing whistle sounded, and she saw Leland Hughes signaling from beyond the tape.
Great.
She hurried up to fall into step with Sam. “How the hell did he know so fast?”

“I texted him before we went to see Dr. Thurgood. Unlike you, I keep my team informed.”

“Yeah, but how did he know we were here?”

Sam pointed to another figure, leaning against an SUV.

Jason gave her a small wave.

“Don’t worry so much about the how and who. We’re gonna be up to our ears in reports.”

Leland strode up, glaring, lips curled like he smelled something sour. “Should have known,” he said, shaking his head. “Soon as I heard the dispatcher, I had a feeling you’d be smack in the middle.” He stared at her face. “You’re not the only one who trusts his gut.”

Cait lifted her eyebrows. “You think I’m responsible for this?”

“You’re never responsible.” He chopped a hand in the air. “Doesn’t mean shit don’t go sideways anytime you’re involved. What the hell was I thinkin’?”

Cait decided to cut to the chase rather than hear him go on about how screwed up she was. If she kept quiet now, he might throw her off the case. “Lieutenant, I know who set the charge.”

Sam’s head jerked.

Oh, yeah. She hadn’t mentioned it, had she? But it was too late now.

“Sam, give him the photocopy Thurgood gave you.”

He pulled the folded-up, grimy photocopy of Donnelly’s driver’s license from a pocket.

“You need to put out an APB on him,” Cait said as she tapped the paper. “He might be involved with the Farmington girl’s kidnapping, too.”

Sam stood so still and silent Cait didn’t dare look his way.

Leland glanced from one to the other, beady eyes narrowing. He pointed a finger at them both. “Don’t go anywhere.” He strode away, shouting to a uniform.

“Feel like old times, O’Connell?” Sam asked, a chill as cold as ice in his voice.

O’Connell?
He was pissed all right. Cait gave him a searing glare. “Wasn’t my damn fault. A lot was happening.”

“Never is your fault,” he bit out.

At the cut, she lifted her chin. Back to the same routine. “You and Leland are so in sync, should I be jealous?”

“No, but he’s got a point.” Sam raked a hand through his hair. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You kept silent over the fact you saw the guy. You’re holding back something else.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Dammit, why would you do that? We’re in this together.”

“Everything happened so fast. Donnelly wasn’t my priority.”

“All that time I spent digging, you sitting on your ass, you couldn’t have given me a damn clue?”

“Sam,” she said, pitching her voice low. “Let’s talk about this when we don’t have so many ears around us.”

“Fine.” His jaw clenched. “But they’re gonna split us up and question us. Shouldn’t I know what’s going on? It’ll look damn strange if I don’t.”

“All you need to know is it was Donnelly who lit the dynamite. That’s all I saw.” She bit her lip, then stopped, because he’d told her long ago the action was one of her “tells.”

For a long moment, his gaze bored into hers. “Right.” He shook his head and turned away.

In an instant they were swarmed.

Cait knew Sam was disappointed. She knew she should have told him the whole truth the moment after they were reasonably safe, but changing was damn hard. She’d spent most of her adult life hiding the strange things she knew. Sam was in her life only for the duration of this case. When it was over, she didn’t know where they stood. Something in her wanted to blunt the full truth because any sane man would run screaming from her crazy life. And she didn’t know if she could handle losing him again.

“Ms. O’Connell, if you’ll come with me…”

A detective she knew by sight but not by name waved her toward a sedan. With a final glance at Sam, who was purposely not looking her way, she gave a nod to the man. The sooner she told them everything she knew, with a little editing regarding Donnelly, the sooner she could hit O’Malley’s.

Because she’d had to first hit her place for yet another shower, it wasn’t until nearly closing time that Cait slid into her regular booth. The familiar smells and muffled conversations interspersed with bursts of laughter calmed her. Only a handful of patrons sat at the bar and a couple of tables, and no one she knew. Strange, since she was a regular and
everyone
usually knew her.

The bartender strode up to the table. “Still on the wagon?” Pauly asked, sliding a coaster onto the scarred wooden table.

Her mouth began to salivate for her favorite drink, but she made a face. “Just water. I’m a little dry.”

“Hope he’s worth it,” Pauly said, giving her a wink, then lifting his head toward the entrance.

Sam pushed through the doors, his face as dark as a thundercloud.

Her girlie parts tingled, but she turned away and folded her arms over her chest. “Not so sure about that right now.”

Pauly laughed and walked toward Sam.

She heard them talking but didn’t make out the words. Knowing Sam, he was probably grilling the bartender about her choice of drink.

Finally Sam slid onto the opposite bench. “The APB’s out. Every uniform in the city is looking for Donnelly. He tried to kill a cop.”

“A lowly PI is just incidental, right?”

“Right.” He hunched forward. “There are no
ears
around now. Spill.”

“What, not gonna sweet-talk a girl first?”

He lifted a brow, blue-as-glacier-ice eyes studying her expression.

Not wanting to meet that cold glare, she lifted a hand to examine her cuticles. “Not much to tell. When I rounded the stack of crates, I saw him, lighting the fuse. He looked right at me and smiled.”

“And? I know there’s more. That much wouldn’t make you this cagey.”

Cait dropped her hand and raised her gaze. “When he looked at me, something was strange about his eyes, Sam. Nothing I’ve seen before. They glowed, and then his pupils expanded until all of the white was black.”

Sam grunted and looked away. “That’s…different.”

She shuddered and made a face. “It was damn creepy. Tell me something. If I’d told you that back in the cave, you would’ve snorted and said it was too dark to see—that I didn’t see it right—wouldn’t you?”

Sam slowly shook his head. “You don’t trust me at all, do you?”

“I do,” she said, then wrinkled her nose. “With some things.”

He blew out a breath. “Maybe the lieutenant’s right.”

“About what?”

“That this…” his hand pointed between their bodies, “is never going to work…you and me working a case together.”

She didn’t like his tone. He sounded as though he was tired of trying. “Because strange things keep happening?”

“No, because you don’t give an inch.”

“And you do?” she scoffed.

His hard gaze swung back, studied her for a moment, and then his lips twitched. “Honey, I can give you about seven.”

Her jaw dropped. Heat flushed her face. “Do you even know how to argue?”

“Is that what we’re doing? I thought it was flirting.”

The edgy growl in his voice licked along her nerve endings. Damn. She pursed her lips and blew out a slow stream of air. “I thought we needed to keep our heads in the game.”

“There’s nothing we can do tonight. We both need a bed. And I don’t want to leave you alone. It’s not safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said grudgingly.

“But why settle for that when you can have someone watching your back?”

By his heavy-lidded gaze, he was talking about doing a whole lot more than offering her personal protection. She squirmed on her seat and realized that while they’d traded heated words her body had become aroused. “I’m trouble,” she said gruffly. “You’ve said it yourself.”

“Sometimes a man needs trouble to feel alive, Cait.”

They both knew she was going to cave, but she wouldn’t be Cait O’Connell if she didn’t give him a bit of a fight. “Shouldn’t you check in with your team?”

“Already did.”

“I should circle back with Jason.”

“He’d have called if he had a hot lead.” One dark brow arched. “Any more concerns?”

Because arousal was reducing her resolve to a limp, quivering mess, she shook her head.

Just when she was about to tell him she was ready to leave, a voice intruded on her lust-filled daze, confusing her. A familiar baritone, the voice was one she hadn’t heard since she was a little girl. Her body felt cold, then hot. A buzzing sounded inside her head. Good Lord, was she going to faint?

Cait gripped the edge of the table and slowly leaned to the side to look behind Sam.

Her heart stopped, then redoubled with thick, throbbing beats. She recognized the short, close-cropped red hair, thickly built torso, and crisp dark uniform in an instant. “Daddy?” she whispered.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Sam asked, cutting a quick glance behind him.

She couldn’t answer him now, couldn’t think. She stood clumsily, edging to the side while she kept staring. Chest tight, she didn’t want to blink and have Paddy O’Connell evaporate before her eyes.

Her father sat with another uniformed officer, both of them with pints of Guinness in their large, shovel-like hands. His face was flushed, the index finger of his free hand wagging as he spoke like he was telling one of his long, funny stories. Then he glanced her way and winked.

Someone shoved past her. “Wait,” she cried huskily. But a body took her father’s seat, and Paddy O’Connell’s sturdy frame wisped away.