The Amara Triad, as Nicole Powell referred to her husband, Sanders, and Yvette.
“Jerome Browning informed Maleah that the copycat killer had bragged about his billionaire employer,” Griff said. “He did not mention the man by name, but he did tell Browning that the billionaire owned a Pacific island and enjoyed the perks of his profession—human trafficking.”
“It is not possible,” Yvette said, a slight tremor in her soft voice. “He lied. Either the copycat lied to Browning or Browning lied to Maleah.”
“I don’t believe Browning lied,” Griff said. “I believe that the man the copycat killer works for is passing himself off as Malcolm York.”
“But who is he and why is he pretending to be York?” Yvette asked. “And why would he want to avenge the real Malcolm York’s murder?”
“That’s what we have to find out,” Griff told her. “The first step is to locate Linden, if he is the copycat, and stop him before he kills again. Once he’s eliminated, we’ll have a brief window of opportunity to find this pseudo- York before he hires another assassin.”
“Do you think he plans to continue killing people associated with the Powell Agency?” Maleah asked.
“I do,” Griff replied. “I am his ultimate target . . .” Griff paused, glanced over his shoulder at Sanders and then at Yvette. “My guess is he wants to draw out the three of us. What his reasons are, I don’t know. What his connection might have been to Malcolm York, I don’t know. And why he’s striking out now, after sixteen years, is a complete mystery.”
“It would seem that we are at his mercy,” Yvette said. “But I refuse to believe that we cannot stop him.”
“We will stop him,” Nic said, her gaze colliding with Yvette’s.
Griff reached out and grabbed Nic’s hand, bringing her attention away from Yvette and to him. “Less than half an hour ago, Luke Sentell contacted me with news, interesting news, if true. Meredith believes Anthony Linden is now in London.”
“If Meredith senses Linden’s presence, then you can be sure that he is there,” Yvette said.
“Why would Linden, if he’s the copycat killer, go to London?” Maleah asked. “Is it possible that he’s chosen Luke or Meredith as his next victim?”
“I think that’s highly unlikely,” Griff replied. “Certainly not Meredith since they were en route to London less than a day apart. And I can’t imagine anyone being able to find Luke Sentell unless he wanted to be found.”
“Then why would the copycat go to London?” Derek asked. “Unless his employer recalled him.”
“That would be my guess,” Griff said. “The only problem is that we have no idea why he would have recalled him. If this fake York intends to continue killing people connected to the agency, why rein in his pit bull?”
When Luke had carried an obviously unconscious Meredith through the hotel lobby and to the elevator, people had stared at him as if he were a murderer.
“I’m afraid my wife can’t hold her liquor,” he had explained, smiling like an idiot.
They had spent half an hour at Heathrow before Meredith passed out from sheer exhaustion. She would probably sleep soundly the rest of the evening.
He laid her across the foot of the bed and removed her shoes. Then he turned down the covers and placed the fully clothed Meredith beneath the sheet and lightweight blanket. She looked about fifteen lying there, her face void of makeup, her hair fiery red against the white pillowcase. He lifted her head enough to maneuver his index finger beneath the tight band holding her ponytail in place, and with one quick snap freed her thick mane of wild curls.
“Sleep tight, Orphan Annie,” he said as he paused in the doorway.
He closed her bedroom door and returned to the living room. After sitting down and pulling his thoughts together, he called Griffin Powell.
“Luke?”
“Yes. Are you free to talk?”
“I’m alone at the moment. Nic and I have been in a meeting with Maleah and Derek. Sanders and Yvette, too, of course, and Barbara Jean. I’ve filled them in about the possibility that Linden is in London.”
“Linden’s not in London.”
“But I thought Meredith was sure he was there.”
“She was and he was,” Luke said. “I took her to Heathrow this afternoon and she picked up his scent almost immediately. She says he was there at the airport sometime recently, perhaps only hours before we arrived, and he wasn’t alone. But she doesn’t know who was with him, only that his companion was female.”
“If Linden is not in London any longer, then where is he?”
“Good question.”
“Didn’t Meredith pick up on anything else, get any sense of which direction—?”
“Of course she did,” Luke said. “North of London, possibly northwest.”
“She couldn’t be more specific?”
“She was trying . . . before she passed out.”
“Is she all right?”
“Yeah, I think she’s fine. You know what happens to her after she has one of her visions. She’s sleeping now and I expect she might sleep through the night.”
“Do you think she can find Linden?” Griff asked.
“Maybe. Of course my brain is telling me no way in hell.”
“Your gut, Sentell, what’s your gut telling you?”
“That there is a fifty/fifty chance she’ll lead me straight to Linden.”
Silence. Long and drawn out, only the sound of Griff’s deep breathing.
“I’ll take those odds,” Griff said. “And Luke, when you find Linden, you know what to do.”
“If he is the professional you believe him to be, I won’t be able to make him talk. He’ll die before he’ll break.”
“No, he won’t talk. He will never reveal any information about his employer.”
“Then what you want is for me to simply eliminate him.”
“Yes, when you find the bastard, kill him.”
Chapter 32
After Griff ended the morning meeting, which had lasted about forty-five minutes, Maleah had taken a walk around the property, something she often did to clear her head. Derek had insisted on going with her, and after Griff told her that no one left the house alone, she reluctantly agreed to let Derek tag along. Much to her surprise, he had not insisted on conversation, which was the last thing she had wanted or needed. What she had needed was time alone, but apparently unless she secluded herself in her room, that wasn’t an option anytime in the near future. And being a girl who loved the outdoors, the thought of spending the rest of the day cooped up inside would have made her agree to having Genghis Khan as her companion.
Her life had suddenly, in the past couple of weeks, become extremely complicated. For most of her adult life, she had been able to enjoy a certain amount of peace and privacy in her personal life, which counter-balanced her exciting and often dangerous job as a Powell agent. But both her personal life and professional life were at risk. Until the Copycat Carver was caught, no Powell agent or family member was completely safe. It wasn’t enough that she had to worry about her own life, but she lived in fear for her family. Then to make the situation worse, teaming up with Derek again had created an unexpected problem, one she wasn’t sure how to handle. Somehow, someway, the impossible had happened.
She had fallen in love with Derek Lawrence.
Derek Lawrence, the rich, spoiled, pampered, womanizing playboy she had disliked from the moment they met.
But that was just it—the real Derek was a different man entirely. Oh, he was rich, a millionaire many times
