Dark Pursuit

But she was far from that.

Downstairs a short muscular man with a huge belly hanging over his jeans was hauling two leather black bags through the front door. Margaret stood by, hands clasped to her chest.

“Hi.” The man’s throaty voice greeted Kaitlan as she bounded off the bottom stair. His gaze riveted to her cheek. His eyes were mud green and deep, his shoulder-length brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. His long- sleeved blue shirt hung baggy. Pockmarks bit into his face and a one-inch scar jagged under his left eye. He looked like a boxer way past his prime. On a bad day.

Where had her grandfather found this guy?

“You must be Kaitlan.” He studied her bruise, his expression mixing sympathy and indignation. An aura of confidence and grit wafted from him, as though he’d experienced all the world could throw at him and survived.

“Yeah.”

The expanse of what this day would bring swept over Kaitlan. Her life would never be the same. If it all worked right, if Craig was caught, she would end up on TV, exposed. Millions of people ogling pictures of her purpled cheek. Would they judge her for ever dating Craig? Would they dig into her background and label her a drug addict?

Pete nodded and his eyes tightened as if he read her soul. “No worries. We’ll fix it.” He turned down the hall and strode heavily toward the office.

Kaitlan threw Margaret a glance and scurried after him. Margaret followed.

In the office Kaitlan’s grandfather stood scowling at a bookcase in the front far corner of the room. “How do you propose to hide that thing on here?” Irritation singed his voice.

Kaitlan probed her tender cheek.

Pete set his bags on the square table across from the computer desk. He shoved thick-fingered hands on his hips and surveyed the shelf. “We need a plant on top.”

“Margaret,” Kaitlan’s grandfather snapped, “go get a plant!”

She melted out the door and soon returned with a large philodendron. “Here. From the dining room.”

“Perfect.” Pete pulled a chair over to the bookcase to stand on. Margaret thrust the plant into his hands. He set it on top.

For fifteen minutes Pete finagled his high-tech equipment into place. First the camera complete with microphone, no bigger than three inches square, was set on a rotating stand. Hiding it in the green leaves, Pete aimed it at a designated chair at the table. The chair with its back to the wall, facing the front windows.

There, Craig would be sitting.

Pete switched on a laptop. As it booted up he pulled a black oval contraption from its case. It resembled a video game control with an upright lever like a gear shift.

Kaitlan’s grandfather watched Pete’s efficient movements with the keen eye of a hawk tracking a mouse.

“Everything’s wireless.” Pete leaned over the laptop and typed. Kaitlan, her grandfather, and Margaret all edged closer to see the screen.

The empty chair appeared.

“Hah!” Kaitlan’s grandfather leaned in eagerly. The camera’s angle would give them about a three-quarter shot of Craig’s face, and her grandfather’s profile.

“Now just in case the camera’s not aimed quite right …” Pete nudged past Margaret to the black control. “Watch.” He gently manipulated the lever. The picture on the screen shifted to a close-up.

“Good, good.” Her grandfather looked victorious.

Kaitlan hugged herself. Could this work after all? If her grandfather could just keep his wits about him …

Pete jerked up straight and checked his watch. “We gotta move. What room are we setting up in?”

“The library, in the north wing.” Kaitlan’s grandfather threw a warning look at Margaret.

She focused on Pete. “Will your wireless go that far?”

“It’ll go a lot farther than this house.”

Margaret looked disappointed. “But we won’t be close to this room. In case something goes wrong.”

Pete’s eyes bounced from Margaret to Kaitlan’s grandfather. “Nothing’s going to go wrong. Our target will never know we’re here, right? That’s the plan. He’ll have his meeting with Darell, leave, and be none the wiser.” Pete spread his mouth in an evil grin. “Until the law comes knocking on his door.”

He is the law.

Sudden anger at her grandfather sprayed through Kaitlan. Stubborn old man, thinking he could pull this off. She’d never known him to listen to anyone.

Pete jerked his thumb toward the front yard. “I’ve got to get the monitor out of my car to hook to this computer. I wanted the reporter to have a bigger screen to film.” He rolled toward the door.

“When you’re done you need to move your car to the garage.” Margaret hurried out behind Pete to show him the way.

With Pete gone, the room fell quiet. Kaitlan turned to her grandfather. He stared hollow-eyed at the door. Kaitlan’s throat dried out. Great, he was already losing it. “You okay?”

He blinked and shook his head. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He pushed up his spine and gave her a stern look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She bit her lip.

His gaze ambled to Pete’s laptop screen, the empty chair upon it. Anticipation lit his eyes. “Craig Barlow’s going to help me with my manuscript.” He mumbled it half to himself.

“What?”

“That’s my plan.” He rubbed a thumb against his cane.

His mind was going. “What are you talking about?”

“His character’s based on mine, you know—on Leland Hugh. I need to jump start my plot. Craig’s bringing a chapter or two. I’ll take from them whatever I can use.”

Shock took hold of Kaitlan’s stomach and dragged it inside out. Her mouth dropped open. Suddenly the crazy things her grandfather had said yesterday—needing a twist, not disappointing readers—made eminent sense.

“You’re bringing Craig here—because of your book?”

Her grandfather’s head jerked, as if he’d let something slip. “Well, no, of course not—”

“Then why did you say he’s going to help you?”

“Because … I haven’t …”

“Haven’t what? Been able to write?” Kaitlan surged three steps away from him. “I don’t believe this!” She swiveled around. “So my coming to you for help was perfectly timed, is that it? Help a granddaughter, get a story.”

Her grandfather pulled back his head. “What nonsense are you accusing me of?”

“You just said it. You’re using me to get you a plot!”

His cheeks flushed. “I am not using you!”

Kaitlan jabbed a finger toward Pete’s laptop. “This plan of yours will never work. But you don’t care, you just want your book.”

“It will work!” Her grandfather waved his cane. “I’ve thought through—”

“Even if Craig leaves here not knowing a thing, the state police will never listen.” Kaitlan paced, panic biting her heels. They’d been through all this last night, but she’d been tired enough to stop fighting. Now they were done for. Out of time and everything was crumbling away.

“Girl, don’t be an idiot,” he spat. “They will listen. With our proof they can tie Craig to the fabric—”

“Stop it, just stop it! None of this matters. The guy who wants to kill me is going to be here soon—and what are you thinking about? Your book!” Kaitlan thrust both hands in the air, her throat tightening. “That’s how it’s always been with you—your work. You don’t care about anybody else or any other thing—just you. The King of Suspense and his writing!” Kaitlan’s hands slid over her eyes. She was going to cry, and she hated herself for it.

“What on earth?” Margaret’s astounded voice came from the doorway.

Kaitlan raised her head. Her grandfather’s eyes were burning coals. “Go ahead, tell her.”

He pointed his cane at Kaitlan. “I ought to throw you out of here, you ungrateful little brat.”