Tempting the Devil (24 page)

“The subpoena?”

“It hasn't been served yet,” he said, his jaw setting.

Stunned, Robin thought about what he was saying. Running to avoid testifying. The idea was tempting. She and her sisters could disappear for a few weeks. But what of Lark's children? Their school? Their friends? Their father? If Lark took them, it could mean loss of custody. And Star was expecting after years of disappointment.

Wherever she turned, she seemed trapped.

“I don't think I can do that,” she said. “I started this. And endangered people in doing so. I can't run away now.”

“From what you say, they might try to charge you with some traffic violations, maybe even DUI. That could mean the Meredith County jail.”

“I know. I might be the only reporter in the history of the paper to go to both a local and a federal jail.”

The small joke provoked a smile, but then his expression turned serious again. “You can stop this now. If you won't leave the city, go talk to the FBI. Get protection for your source, yourself, your family.”

“I don't think they protect extended families. Even if they did, how can I ask my sisters to give up the lives they have now?”

“Whatever you decide, the paper will support you.”

“Everyone at the paper?”

“Management certainly. I would think everyone else.”

“Thanks for convincing them to give me bodyguards or whatever they are outside.”

“I was afraid you would object.”

“I'm not usually an idiot,” she said, “though I suspect I acted like one last night.”

“You had every reason to believe the text message came from your source.”

“I'm still not sure it didn't. They might have followed me any place I went, especially if they could track the car.”

“No way you can get in touch with him?”

“Not without possibly leading someone to him.” She paused, then added, “Ben Taylor thinks they might have planted a device in my car that they followed. He had someone come over last night and sweep the house. They found two listening devices in my phone. One in the living room and one in my office.”

“You didn't tell me that.”

“I am now,” she said.

“That's it. You're off the story.”

“That's not going to help, Wade. The problem of the source will still exist. That's what everyone wants, whether or not I cover the story. So I might as well continue.”

“I'll see if we can't double the protection.”

She nodded.

The FBI sketch artist followed Wade's visit, and twenty minutes after he left, a florist truck arrived. She watched as one of the bodyguards approached it, apparently asked for identification, then allowed the delivery man to approach the house after checking the vase of flowers he carried.

After thanking the delivery man she took the vase. It was huge and filled her arms as she took them to the table. They were lovely, an intricate mixture of colors. Not roses but an exotic arrangement of blue and purple blooms she couldn't identify.

She tore open the card.
Hope you're feeling better. Looking forward to dinner. Michael
.

She stood there and stared at them. She'd received many, many flowers when she'd had her accident. But she'd never received flowers just as a token. Under other circumstances, they would be a pleasant surprise. Now all she could think about was her sisters.

She put the flowers on her coffee table. An uneasiness stirred inside. She'd instantly felt comfortable with Michael and at any other time would have no qualms about dating him. Now, though, she wanted to know more about him before inviting him in. She would call him tomorrow at the company he said he worked for, as well as check out the company itself.

The last few days had made her extra cautious.

She wished she had been that cautious yesterday. She'd thought then she had been. She didn't plan to take anything for granted again.

Ben talked to the two men in front of Robin's house. They were different from the ones last night. He tried to assure himself of their competence. Both were ex-cops, better than untrained rent-a-cops. Then he went to the door. He'd been chafing all morning, ever since the phone call, since she'd told him about the threats to her family.

He didn't know what they meant for the case. Or for the plan. The bad guys had upped the stakes, and he didn't know if he had anything better to offer. He very much doubted that the FBI would protect the families of Robin's two sisters.

She must be going through hell.

He wasn't altogether prepared when he saw her face as she opened the door. The light in her eyes was gone. The dancing mischief. “Thanks for coming,” she said. Gratitude was etched in her face.

He tried to ignore the rumbling of guilt inside. “The sketch artist been here?”

“Came and gone. I don't think I was as much help as I hoped. Those sunglasses …” Her voice faded off, and she looked as taut as a telephone wire.

He had vowed not to touch her again. It was all he could do not to.

She held the door open and he went inside, trying to avoid brushing against her. God, what had happened to his self-control?

“Have you been up all day?”

She nodded.

“You don't submit to authority very well, do you? The doctor told you to rest.”

“It's been a little busy.”

He glanced around the room and couldn't miss the huge bouquet of fresh flowers. The card was still among the stems.

Her eyes met his, and a fine warmth ran through him. It was as if he was coming home, not just visiting a subject involved in an investigation. He should hand the case to someone else. He'd known it since he'd taken Daisy to the vet's. But he'd told himself he could control it. Now he knew he couldn't.

“Back to bed,” he said, knowing he sounded like a stuffy old uncle.

She didn't protest. That told him a lot.

He accompanied her back into the bedroom and found a T-shirt for her. “What about food?”

“A donut for breakfast.”

He shook his head, then left, closing the bedroom door behind him. He went into the living room and stared out the window. It was still midday and the sun shone on the street in front. The dark sedan with the bodyguards stuck out like a sore thumb. He only hoped that someone was watching the back as well. There should be an FBI team in the neighborhood tomorrow. It couldn't be too fast for him.

He went into the kitchen, looked in the fridge. Like his, there wasn't much there. Milk. Cheese. Two eggs. A stick of butter. A jar of peanut butter. Bread. He spread some peanut butter on the bread, poured a glass of milk, then went to the bedroom with it and knocked.

“Come in.”

She was in bed, propped against several pillows. Daisy was on her lap.

He put the plate in front of her and the milk on the bedside table. “Have you called your sisters?”

“Yes. It wasn't easy to tell them that I've put both of them in danger.”

Now was the time to pounce. “We can provide protection for them,” he said, hoping it was three.

“If I cooperate?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

He didn't answer. He couldn't answer. If they chose not to go into witness protection, there would be a limit, and he wasn't at all sure that the witness protection program would take extended families. Her source had been right about that. They could only hope they scooped up the Hydra leadership.

“I haven't heard from my source. I can't give anyone his name without at least talking to him,” she said after a prolonged silence.

He'd feared that would be her response. Hell, it would have been his, as much as he hated to admit it. He'd had a similar decision to make years ago, and he'd made it with his heart, not his brain. The consequences had been disastrous, but he wouldn't listen then, and he doubted she would listen now.

“Where do your sisters live?”

“Lark's in South Carolina. She's just gone through a divorce and is involved in a custody case. She can't leave, or she might lose her children. Kim and Hunter. Star is just a few weeks from having a baby. She's in Richmond, Virginia. Her husband has a one-man law firm that's just being established.”

Though her tone was normal, he felt the tension in her, the barely restrained fear. But then any normal person would feel the same.

“I'll alert the FBI offices there. See if they can't keep an eye out.”

She looked at him directly. “Thank you.” She released a long breath. “I want to be released from my word. Dear God, I want it.”

“You may never get it. What then?”

This time, she didn't answer.

“What about a tap on your phone? We can get voice prints on your caller.”

She shook her head. “The voice is metallic. He's using something to disguise it.”

His cell phone rang. He damned it, but answered.

Mahoney's voice was clipped. “A sheriff's deputy has been killed in a traffic accident.”

“Are you sure it's an accident?”

“No, that's why I'm calling you. Holland wants you and me to come in. He wants us to research this guy's background and the facts of the accident. Discreetly,” he added ironically.

“Who is it?”

“Edwards. Richard Edwards.”

“How did it happen?” he asked.

“Looks like he went off the road and the car burned. Coincidental, wouldn't you say?”

“I'll be in shortly.” He hung up and fixed his stare on Robin. “Your source couldn't be a deputy named Richard Edwards?”

“No.”

The puzzled look on her face told him Edwards was not her source. “Do you know him?” he asked.

“Edwards? Richie? I've met him. He was bailiff for the court, and we had coffee several times during a recent trial. Why?”

“He just turned up dead. A traffic accident and explosion.”

“No …”

He watched her.

Her face crumpled. “It wasn't him,” she said. “He wasn't my source.”

“Then they may be systematically going after anyone in the department associated with you.”

She closed her eyes, then after a second opened them as if she'd made a decision.

“Thanks for coming,” she said.

It was an abrupt dismissal. Any hope that she might give up the source died.

He also realized she had a plan of some sort forming in that creative mind. Unfortunately most of her plans had gotten her in trouble.

“Robin?”

“I'm really tired,” she said.

“If you are planning to do anything, you'll let me know? No more secret meetings on your own?”

Her eyes didn't meet his.

“Damn it, Robin.”

“I won't do anything foolish. But I do have to get my life back in order and do a few simple things like get a car, a checkbook, and a credit card.”

He pushed back a curl that had dropped on her forehead, willing her to trust him.

Her eyes did not change, nor did the stubborn set of her chin.

He dropped his hand. “You'll contact me if you need anything? If you get any more calls?”

“I will,” she said, the earnest blue eyes meeting his. “I promise. And thanks.”

He hated the helplessness that washed through him. Thanks for what? He'd been able to offer little comfort or advice about her sisters. But he had limited options. He was constrained by his own job, by his orders.

He gave her one last glance, then reluctantly left.

chapter seventeen

The front door clicked behind him.

Robin locked the door, then went into the bedroom, sat on the side of the bed, and tried to ignore the bone-chilling weariness. The one person she wanted to confide in was the one person she couldn't. Not yet.

She
had
to get in touch with Sandy. By now she suspected he would know about the ambush in Meredith County. Why hadn't he tried to reach her?

But how? Her cell phone was a molten shell.

It was up to her. And she could do nothing without a car.

She reached for the brace and buckled it on, then pulled jeans over it and slipped into the T-shirt she'd worn earlier. Then she went to her office.

She looked at her watch. Nearly four p.m. Time to get a rental car. She went through her Rolodex and found her insurance agent. In minutes she had provided information to the agent and received authorization for a rental car. Now to get to the rental car company and convince them to give her a car without a current driver's license in hand.

She took a handful of quarters from the large jar that held her spare change, then located her expired driver's license and the credit card she kept in her desk, as well as her latest car insurance bill. She tucked them all into her jeans. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would get a replacement driver's license. She was not about to go into Meredith County without one. But she had to go out tonight.

Being afraid for others was far more terrifying than being afraid for herself, and God knew she was afraid. Four men dead, and she had come close to being the fifth victim. She had walked into this knowing the risks, but she would never forgive herself if her sisters were injured or killed because of her.

Now she wasn't only terrified for them, she was mad as hell. White hot rage filled her.

Sandy had to release her from her promise. But even if he did, and she told the FBI, the bad guys had sworn to go after Star and Lark. She wasn't at all sure she believed the FBI would put teams of agents on them for weeks, maybe even months.

Therefore it was up to her to trump the bad guys.

Ignoring the lingering pain in her ribs and from other assorted bruises, she went into the kitchen, fed Daisy, made herself a cup of coffee, and formulated a plan.

First objective: reach Sandy without anyone knowing. It would not be easy to leave her house alone. Not only were the private investigators outside, but she wouldn't be surprised if the FBI, or even the bad guys, was following her.